Wait for It
by Nyaar
Summary: Anahardt (Ana/Reinhardt) slow burn, starting from the days of the Strike Team and the Omnic Crisis. Pining, hurt/comfort, family, pewpews, duty, friendship, PTSD, war stuff and feeeeeeels.
1. The First Years, Jun 2046

Overwatch Headquarters stood tall against the snow and pines of Switzerland. It was not hidden under a mountain -or even a lake- in the way secret bases were supposed to be. No, it was just there, a grey building devoid of ornament but for a round carving with what looked like hands giving a high five.

Reinhardt had somewhat hoped that the coin Balderich gave him included a private joke, but it seemed it did not. Well. As disappointing as it was, not everyone could have gryphons as coat-of-arms.

The helicopter that had brought him there took off in a cloud of chaos, spewing snow everywhere with the strength of its whirling blades. It was soon a small dot in the cloudy sky, and he curled his hands into fists and took a deep breath. That was it. No turning back, now.

Leaving the container with his armour behind, Reinhardt walked towards the large, closed doors at the front of the building. They were large enough to fit a tank, or maybe something bigger. He wondered what secret spy technology they stored in there. Maybe a big-arse robot to fight Omnics? That would be amazing. It would almost make it for the dumbarse symbol.

It was June and it was bloody freezing outside. He forced his hands in his pockets as he paced in front of the door. Nobody was coming to fetch him, despite seeing him land? There was no screen by the doors, no communications device. No cameras. Maybe there was a side door? No. No side door, just smooth grey walls. Actually, windowless walls, he just noticed-but he could swear he had seen light reflecting on glass when he arrived.

If what Balderich had told him was true and this Overwatch organization hunted Omnics and protected humans, sure the tin cans would know of the existence of this place. Still-and despite the raging war- the building had not even a single dent or bullet hole. It looked as good as new.

There was no snow on it, either. He stroked his goatee. It was really a strange building, but that would not keep him out. If this was a test, he was going to pass it with flying colours, he cackled, walking towards his container.

It opened flawlessly, revealing his trusty armour suit. He had had it patched up before leaving Germany, much like the army's doctors did for him. They were both scratched and rough around the edges, but that had never stopped him from finishing a mission.

He made a thin line with his mouth as he opened the fixations on the chest plate; he did not remember a time he had put on his armour alone, and the thought made his chest ache. But times changed- and the suit was a freaking fridge. _Shit _. He felt goosebumps riding all the way up from his legs. He had never suited up in the middle of nowhere covered in snow, either.

The anchors for the boots were easy to find and helped him gain stability as he worked the suit up. By the time it was just the chest piece remaining, his hands were shaking all over the controls at the armour's wrists. He grabbed them and probed the metallic fingers. All operational. Good. His armoured right hand closed the hatch on the side of the chest piece at the tenth try, and set the shoulder pad correctly.

The engine on his back came to life at last, bringing much-needed warmth to his body, and he laughed in relief. He glared at the still-closed doors and the armour roared as he charged.

He aimed for the joint of the doors, the weakest point, and braced for impact. Three feet. One foot.

He rushed through the doors as if they were made of air. In front of him appeared half a concrete wall with windows. Real windows. _Fuck _. Reinhardt covered his face with his arms as his legs hit the wall and his momentum drove him through the glass, shattering it into shards little larger than dust. He rolled several feet inside the building, until he landed sprawled all over the floor.

"That didn't go as I expected," he winced, getting on all fours and looking around. Several people were on their feet, aiming at him with rifles. "Hello, my friends. I'm not the enem-"

A kick found his back as he was raising his hands, forcing him to stay down. Well, forcing was a bit of a strong word, but he decided it was best not to fight back. For now.

"What in the world were you thinking?" He heard the voice of an angry woman, and soon enough he saw her boots and ankles. Oh, and legs. Nice legs. "Didn't you see the holographic wall?"

Who cared about walls? She was tall and slender, but irradiated an aura of strength and self-confidence. She kicked arse around there, that was for sure. She was, by the looks of her uniform, a Captain.

"Stop staring if you want to keep that eye," her eyes turned into slits, and she pushed his jaw to the side with the tip of her rifle. Damn it. She could kill him that same moment and she would still be damn beautiful. "Who are you? Not von Everec, that's for sure."

"That's true," he let go a long breath. "Permission to get up, Captain?"

"Denied," she looked unimpressed, and he could not blame her. He was standing like a dog at her feet, pushing with his back upwards to stop supporting the blasted engine with his shoulder blades only. "Now, talk before I lose my patience."

"I'm Crusader Lieutenant Reinhardt Wilhelm, ma'am. I'm here on-"

"Lies," she hammered her rifle. "The Crusaders are no more."

The screens around them flashed a list of deceased Crusaders and he gritted his teeth, his body tightening as if someone was twisting and squeezing his guts.

It had only been a week.

One by one, his comrades' pictures scrolled down until the screen showed his. The only survivor of the Battle of Eichenwalde, staring at him with two eyes full of self-confidence and arrogance. His hands made fists inside the armour, even though the gauntlets' fingers could only curl so much while holding their combined weight, and he pushed himself up in spite of the rifles pointing at this head.

"I cannot replace the General," he said among teeth, looking her in the eye. "But he entrusted me his coin. Let me honour my comrades' memory by serving with you."

After a moment of silence, the Captain made a gesture and the soldiers stood down.

"I am Captain Ana Amari, former Egyptian army, currently part of the Overwatch Strike Team," she saluted him, her rifle resting on her shoulder. "We received notice you had all fallen, so we were not expecting visits," she finished, her voice a pinch softer.

"They died with glory," he said, raising his chin proudly, but the words sounded empty. He wished he could scratch the bloody scar on his face while wearing the armour. "I'll get you the coin when I take the armour off."

"Keep it and show it to the Strike Commander. He will decide if you can join us. You can stay at the facilities until then but, please, refrain from breaking more windows," she snorted.

"Sorry about that," Reinhardt made a face, half a chuckle, half an embarrassed pout, and he saw her rolling her eyes as she walked down the corridor.

The building was much larger than Reinhardt had given it credit for. Once his armour was safely stored and kept warm inside, a nice lady provided him with a badge so he could walk around the complex. And walk he did, for he had nothing else to do.

There was a shooting range and a large gym. A canteen where they served good-enough food and beer only at night (he had already asked). There were several doors he did not have access to and everything and everywhere had a very antiseptic look; grey and white, long tube lights on the corridors, darker grey doors, light grey furniture.

Sitting at the canteen, Reinhardt slurped a vanilla smoothie while he eyed people coming and going; most of them were researchers or scientists of some sort. The ladies seemed to be amiable enough, giggling and smiling openly wherever he winked at them, but none would come to chat. Whenever he had tried to make small-talk by reaching a group of people, they had fled immediately.

He was incredibly bored, and boredom made him remember faces and places that were no more. Screens with crossed-out names and bloody Omnics. At this rate, he would end up doing curls at the gym to kill time- sitting on the ground, of course, because everything seemed just too small for him to use. If only there were someone he could fight, he sighed, missing the loud canteen back home. His loud comrades.

_Shit_.

He gulped down the smoothie in one go.

"What's the matter here? Why's everyone so shy?" He asked the bartender. "Never seen a German before? We don't bite. Much," he cackled. The tender rolled his eyes, never stopping cleaning glasses with a cloth. Reinhardt groaned and leaned his head on a hand, covering his ruined eye with it. "I'm serious. What's wrong with you people?"

"Your reputation precedes you, I'm afraid," Reinhardt heard a gruff voice by his side. He turned around, but he was alone. "Here, you big oaf!"

Something hit him in the shin, _hard _, and he yelped, jumping backward and colliding with one of the too-flimsy-to-hold-him stools behind him. There was an incredible small beard-wait no, they were chops, and they were actually quite cool. And that mechanical—

His feet were taken from under him and he ended with his bones on the ground. He groaned, the healing injuries on his back all complaining at the same time, but the newcomer and his blond chops looked quite smug. He would be around his age, though it was difficult to say because he was really short.

"Bloody Germans. Don't you know staring at people is rude?" He asked, the mechanical contraption on his left arm making a clanking noise in front of Reinhardt's face. "Walking as if you own the place is also rude."

"I mean no disrespect, my friend," he replied, sitting up. The sight of the muscles of the newcomer's arms painted an evil grin on his face. "But taking me down-that was quite the move. What about we arm-wrestle our differences away?"

"Hah. Maybe later," he smirked. "Now get up. Captain Amari needs us."

"Does she?" Reinhardt scrambled to his feet immediately, feeling a rush of energy. Bursting Omnic heads always made him feel better, somehow. "Is there a battle somewhere?"

"Maybe," the newcomer said without much enthusiasm, making a gesture with his hand. He just about reached Reinhardt's hip.

Reinhardt doubled up with laughter.

"No wonder you've birds in your head with that height," the short man grabbed him and pulled forward. "We'll see if you live up to the rest of your reputation."

-000-

Captain Ana Amari was already waiting for them in a briefing room, fully geared for combat. While reading on a datapad, her other hand played idly with the long braid over her shoulder.

She had no idea how this would play out. Probably she was stepping on Gabriel's toes, but she would play her cards as they came.

"Thanks, Torbjörn. Lieutenant," she gave them a quick nod as they entered the room and powered off the datapad. "I'll be brief. I've received a distress signal from a factory not far from here, and we are low-"

"Let's go fight, then!" The Lieutenant bellowed in his thick German accent and grinned, hands on his hips. "What are we waiting for?"

Ana looked at him with raised eyebrows. This guy was like nothing she had encountered before, let alone in the military. It had to be a facade. A distraction, to mess with his enemies' heads. And his allies', too, apparently.

"The situation is hardly optimal. Even if you agree to help us informally-"

"I do!"

"-it's only the three of us," she glared at him. Despite what it said in his dossier, the Crusader did not seem to have any form of military training. Gabriel would shred him to pieces when he met him- if she had not, already. "We won't engage the enemy unless imperative, and we will focus on rescuing as many people as we can. Understood?"

Torbjörn nodded.

"I'll go grab some supplies and meet you at the hangar. Tag along, big guy."

"Not yet," Ana said. "I need a moment with the Lieutenant. I'll send him your way."

Torbjörn raised his bushy eyebrows for an instant while his mouth curved into a grin.

"No doubt you will," he cackled. "Leave something of the poor bastard."

She almost smiled.

The Lieutenant was looking at her expectantly, tucking the longish golden hair behind his ears. The scar on his face made him look fierce when he frowned but, from what she had gathered, he seemed content enough walking around like an oversized puppy-or an oversized womanizer.

"I'm all ears, Captain," he leaned on the wall behind him, arms crossed and a little smile on his lips.

"You better be," she stood in front of him, not intimidated by the difference in height and weight. "I've read your expedient-the whole base has, at this point. Despite your many achievements you're reckless, egocentric, and ignore your chain of command-among other pearls."

His brow furrowed, and she knew she had his attention. Good.

"This is a rescue mission, and I won't tolerate you running berserk and jeopardizing our security, or that of the civilians'. Is that clear? I'll put you down myself, if I have to."

She did not mean kill him, of course. Just put him to sleep for a while. The look in his eye, though, had changed to something she could not pinpoint. Just-

"I understand, Captain," he said in a low voice, looking like an oversized, upset puppy. How could his eyes be so expressive?

"Good," she nodded. "You have five minutes to get in that armour of yours. Go."

The factory was a mess. They had taken too long to reach them and whatever was not burning was falling apart. There should not be any Omnics left, but thankfully their aircraft's sensors detected survivors in a couple of buildings.

Along with the two men, Ana had taken a handful of soldiers to watch over their aircraft and help the survivors once they reached them. Some of them were medics, some psychologists-and some were engineers which expertise was moving structures and building bridges. There were many operatives to chose from to begin with, most of them being deployed in the same mission Gabriel was commanding, but they would make do. They must.

The aircraft landed with a soft thud and the cargo door opened immediately after. Her heart raced. It was time.

"Establish a perimeter around the ship and bring in the civilians as they come. Torbjörn, make sure we are safe. Lieutenant, come with me."

The Crusader walked by her side, his armour making a hundred metallic noises as he moved. He was at least a foot taller while in it and easily as broad as a delivery truck, but he moved as if it weighed nothing-which she was sure was far from the truth. She should ask Torbjörn to report later; maybe any of that technology could be useful for them.

He was also quiet, changing his big hammer from hand to hand every now and then and looking around pensively. It was an improvement from his loud-self, that was for sure.

"Everyone, keep your comms open and stay safe." There was a bunch of ayes and nods, and she took a deep breath. "Torbjörn, you're in charge now. We will search for survivors."

"After you, Captain," the Lieutenant bowed and moved to the side to grant her access to the door and she restrained the urge to roll her eyes. She would give him one mistake before putting him to sleep. One, she thought, getting outside their aircraft. Columns of dark smoke rose from the burning buildings, and she covered her face with a handkerchief tied at the back of her head.

"You don't have a helmet," she realized, looking at the Lieutenant as he rested the hammer on his shoulder.

"I don't need one."

Well, stone her. Who would have guessed close-ranged combatants did not need helmets? Nobody, because they _needed _them. She let go a sigh, but said nothing. She needed him now, but he would not be her problem once Gabriel was back. She was missing him and Jack already.

"I'll cover your back while you get those survivors out. The Omnics are likely gone already, but I won't risk it. We do this quickly. Questions?"

"None. Let's do this."

She climbed up bent beams and large pieces of debris from where she could see his figure. He was like a bull in a china shop; easy to follow and to shoot at, either due to the sound of his footsteps, the smoke that made him cough, or light reflecting on the armour.

They rescued a couple trapped under a beam and then moved to the next building. There were tons of metal scraps and large tankers, and a smell like hell itself-it may have been a sort of furnace, but it was mostly destroyed at present. Ana crouched on top of a beam that gave her visibility inside the building and yet a good view of part of their surroundings.

"This place is vile," the Lieutenant complained as he coughed. The upper levels had collapsed almost completely, giving the wrong feeling of open space with a very uneven floor.

"I'm sure a helmet would help with that," she picked on him. He grunted something on the comms and she smirked, thankful about her kerchief even if it would do nothing about the smell.

"The survivors should be by your right. Further to the right. Yes, there," she guided him to a large chunk of concrete that looked as if it had fallen from the uppermost level. She adjusted the scope of her rifle in time to see the Lieutenant pushing the rubble away with his armoured hands.

"Careful. It's unstable above," she said while shooting at the point she wanted him to look at. He raised a thumb at her and hammered the whole section down. It exploded in pieces that reached all the way to the opposite wall. "Is that what _careful _means to you?" She asked, mildly incredulous, charging the rifle with mechanical movements. "The building won't cope with your strength."

"And what does?" He chuckled, flexing an arm without turning. She would have hidden her eyes under a hand if she had not been looking through her rifle's scope. For a split a moment, she wondered about the other Crusaders. They could not have been like this-could they? Their intel about von Everec never suggested it, but she found difficult to believe they would put up with the Lieutenant unless they were quite similar people. That, or he could see something in the Lieutenant that clearly was lost to her.

A couple of dirty workers scurried from a dark hole, frightened but apparently whole. Ana took a torch from her belt and made some signals to show them the way out. They did not move, though, talking to the Crusader and making gestures towards another wall.

He started pushing another slab of concrete away, the engine on his back roaring. It must be stuck with others, for it barely moved.

"Leave it. I'll call the engineers."

"The workers are suffocating," he said between teeth. "There's no time."

"The building is unstable," she said slowly. "You may-"

"I've got this."

She raised her head from the rifle for a moment to assess the building as a whole and glimpsed something moving. She blinked, but it was gone.

"We may have company, after all," she jumped down her beam towards a bent concrete slab, perfect for sliding all the way to the ground, and looked around. The sky was clouded with smoke, dawn would be on them soon-but there was no sign of the enemy. There was nobody perched on the visible roof above them, either.

She heard the Crusader huffing and the ground sliding, crunching, cracking. Then, coughs coming from at least a dozen people and gasps for air.

"Stay hidden, I'll-"

She rolled on the ground at the sound of a machine-gun getting ready to fire, and caught sight of a plasma barrier shielding both the workers and the Crusader. She rushed to her feet and zig-zagged while the Omnic focused on them.

"That's all you can do?" He taunted, keeping it occupied on himself. "Come down here and fight me!" So he could be useful as well, apparently. Ana climbed up several broken pieces of concrete and equipment until she had a clear shot. Then, she smiled.

The bastion unit never knew what hit it. Two shots and it beeped in distress. Five, and it just plummeted to the ground.

"Good one!" The Lieutenant laughed, removing the barrier and turning to the workers. "Better stay there for a while more, my friends. May not be safe yet."

"Torbjörn, there are bastions in the area," Ana called the engineer. "Be careful. We have quite a lot of survivors here, we may need fire cover to get them to safety."

The Crusader's stomping footsteps clanked on the ground, making it tremble slightly. How much did the bloody armour weigh, anyway? He stood in front of the hiding workers, cocking his head at her scrutiny, and she gasped. The ground kept trembling even if he was standing.

_Move _, she wanted to scream, but it was too late. There was a loud cracking noise, and the floor crumbled under them. Among the pieces of concrete, metal and pipes collapsing, she saw a large furnace laying at the bottom of a significant a drop.

The suffocating heat and smell hit her and, for a moment, she felt like she was flying. Her body was devoid of gravity or anything to weigh her down. It was freedom in its purest form and it was darkness, if it had a gaping red, melting mouth. She thought of her daughter. What would she do alone in the world? Would Sam take her with him?

The darkness roared in distress, and she could not breathe. Blackness crept into her vision and engulfed the furnace's light.

Ana gasped for breath and groaned at the pain in her side. It reminded her of the time she was run over by a car in Egypt, when she was little. She knew, though, that she had been away from her motherland for quite some time, and that she was not a little girl. That was good, it ruled out a bad concussion. Her mouth tasted like blood and sand, but she did not seem to be badly injured- just bruised and scratched, and maybe with some cracked ribs.

It was very dark around her-wait. The darkness was not as intense to the right of wherever she was. The furnace, of course. Hopefully, there was a way out, even if that meant climbing.

Her hands felt debris, small rocks, and metal rods, but not her rifle. Damn. She got herself on her knees carefully, but stopped when she heard a metallic sound above. Then servos ticking and hydraulic joints. Her mouth dried; that was not the Lieutenant.

Ana dropped to the ground in a split a second despite her instincts screaming her to run. Her heart was like thunder in her ears, but she did not move. She could escape or hide while in the dark, and she could not protect herself without her rifle.

The Omnic above hammered its weapons. Another machine gun, she thought. Another Bastion. She squeezed her eyes, expecting a round of shooting, but nothing happened. She was alive, and the workers were not screaming. A miracle. Her heart was about to pop out of her chest.

The Bastion was somewhat broken if it could not read her heat signature, which was great news. She just had to get out of there, find the Lieutenant if possible, and kick his arse to oblivion for not listening to her.

Ana got to her knees again and scurried towards the opposite side of the furnace, ribs screaming in pain. In the darkness, her hands found their way across the uneven surface of the walls until her shoulder hit a wall in front of her. It groaned and crumbled, and she covered her head with her arms. A large chunk fell close to her face, almost pinning her down.

Just, the wall provided light, was panting, and was very much alive.

"Lieutenant," she gasped. A large armoured hand covered the half of his face where the scar was while the other was by her own face-limp.

Ana wriggled herself out of her improvised shelter and kicked his hammer out of her way so she could sit on her feet.

Now that he had moved, his armour lit the room dimly ahead of them,- or what was left of it. Debris piled in big chunks, and there was a broken pipe somewhere. Water, hopefully, since it did not smell. They were on a tunnel of some sort, uneven and carved on the wall.

"We need to get out before the bastion kill the workers," she whispered, yet he still did not acknowledge her. The left side of his armour was scratched and torn in places. Blood dripped down the metallic fingers on his face as he panted, lost in his mind. She bit her lip- they had no time for inner demons, now.

Ana counted to three and pulled at his limp left arm. He roared in pain, throwing a blind punch at her. She dodged it, rolling on the ground in a very unceremonious way and gasped in agony as she landed. She was coughing up blood; ribs must be more broken than she thought.

"Captain?" He called, his voice rough. Ana heard the clanking sound of the armour moving and then a curse when he hit his head against the improvised roof. For goodness' sake. She would have laughed if it did not hurt so much. The Crusader knelt by her side with a grunt and a large cold hand felt her arm. Then, she saw LEDs behind him.

"Behind you," she croaked.

The Bastion opened fire. The Lieutenant groaned as the bullets rebounded on his plated back and he turned around, grabbing forward his limp left forearm. A plasma barrier hummed to life in front of them, stopping the bullets for now.

"Can you move? Just a bit? Get behind some rubble?" He asked, practically filling the whole tunnel just by crouching on it. The Bastion's attack was relentless, and the plasma barrier was cracking at the sides already.

"No," she whispered, feeling a deep, cold dread. Not for her, but for Fareeha. For those poor souls they had tried to save and that may end up dead all the same. Even for the buffoon that was trying to save her life.

"Don't worry, then. Just stay with me, _maus _You'll live. And our short friend will save those workers."

The barrier gave out.

The Crusader turned around and towered over her, and then it was all darkness.

-0000-

The rain of bullets stopped hitting his back after a long while, and Reinhardt gasped in relief. He was alive, somehow. Hiding his head seemed to have done the trick but, the way his back hurt meant his armour had taken a beating. Damn, if only he could fought the bloody tin can- it was only one, he would have destroyed it easily if the Captain could have hid- but the damn thing had been shooting freaking anti-tank rounds point-blank at him for more than a minute.

_Ow_.

He moved a bit, enough to see the Captain being immobile under his frame, curled on herself, her dark skin paling.

"Captain, you there?" The engineer's voice echoing down the hole made Reinhardt sigh in relief. He had destroyed the Omnic for sure, and he would save the Captain, too.

"We're down here," Reinhardt answered instead, clanking his hand against the wall. His comm unit was as busted as the rest of his armour. "I owe you a beer, my friend. A good German beer."

And beer was exactly what he needed. He sat on the ground; his dislocated shoulder screamed at every movement, but he would _kill _to stop the pain on his already blind eye.

"But hurry up. The Captain is injured," he continued, hearing the engineer already working on something.

"Why didn't you say it sooner?!"

Reinhardt grabbed his pounding head again and tried to squirm closer to the wall to make way for the medics. More people were getting closer now, but he could not tell if they were the workers or some of the soldiers that came with them. His vision was blurry and he could barely distinguish the Captain's silhouette against the faint light but, the way his head hurt, he did not even want to try squinting. He could, though, berate himself for failing to carry her to safety in the first place.

She would have ended at the bottom of that furnace had he not charged, but still. She was so small, and lean. Fragile. And yet she killed that Bastion in a blink of an eye. Impressive-And how she dodged and climbed. They never had such skilled snipers in the German army.

"What in all forges happened to you, big guy?" He heard the engineer (what was his name again?) say when he pointed a torch to his face.

"Not important," Reinhardt shook his head and regretted it immediately. Dizziness hit him, and he leaned his head back on the rocky wall. _Carefully_. "Doctor's with you, _ja _?"

There was, in fact, more than one doctor. As they worked on her, Reinhardt's mouth formed a thin line. He had no right to say he knew the Captain, but he did. She was fierce and kind- hearted. She knew her priorities, tried to keep them all safe. And, while she barely breathed by his side, he could not stop thinking about how similar she was to Balderich-and how much he would hate himself if she also died because of him.

The engineer's metallic contraption clunking in front of his face startled him.

"That blow to your pretty face doesn't look very good," he said, taking the large armour hand away from his head. Reinhardt would have pushed him away, but he felt drained. "Why in the hell don't you wear a helmet?"

He groaned.

The doctors at the headquarters promised she would live- that was all Reinhardt needed to stop being difficult and let them take a look at his injuries. As dramatic as they may have been, they were nothing he would not survive with ice and painkillers. And beer.

But drinking with a pounding head was not as much fun as having a pounding head after drinking, he thought, sitting at the edge of a small bed and rubbing the back of his neck. Besides, he could not shake the feeling of failure from his bones.

It was not that he regretted saving those people, no. But he had never been so painfully aware of his decisions-and their consequences to others-until now. During his years as a Crusader he thought he knew what he was doing, but maybe-maybe he was not cut out for being a shield, after all. Maybe he truly was too reckless, too impulsive.

He groaned. Screw it. Beer it was, and plenty of it. Now.

He was getting out the door, not even bothering to put his boots on, when he collided with something- or somebody, as his shins painfully let him know.

"Getting yourself almost killed out there isn't enough to call it a day?"

"Ah, I'm just going for beer," Reinhardt said slowly, his voice rumbling in his ears.

The engineer looked at him frowning, his bushy eyebrows forming a large caterpillar of hair. Reinhardt felt the pull of a smile on his lips and coughed somewhat to spare his shins.

"Get back to bed," he said after a moment of glaring. "You're worse that my kids, not being able to stay put for a moment."

"I'm not-" He stopped talking when his short visitor pressed some buttons on the metallic contraption of his arm. "What are you doing?"

"Bringing the beer here, you moron. You won't make it to the canteen without falling on your face," he scratched one of his chops. "Actually, that would be fun."

Reinhardt chuckled and winced at the strain it put on his body. When he was not actively trying to maim him, the engineer's dry humour was fun. He liked him, he thought while sitting at the edge of the bed.

"Lieutenant Reinhardt Wilhelm, at your service," he offered him a hand, that he took. "I don't think we've been introduced."

"Chief Engineer Torbjörn Lindholm, at yours," he looked around for a moment, then continued. "I wanted to thank you for saving Ana."

"I almost killed her," he shrugged, which was a bad idea. Same as taking the sling off. He grabbed the cold pack the doctors gave him from the table and pressed it against his shoulder. The cold bit through the bandages, and Reinhardt welcomed the different kind of pain. "Where is that beer?"

"Of course. The Germans need to _have _everything now and _do _everything now," Torbjörn rolled his eyes. "What about the planning? The journey?"

"What journey?"

"It's a manner of speech, you oaf," he jumped on to the bed and sat by his side. His short legs dangled far from the floor, which did not seem to bother him a bit. "You really hit your head hard-which reminds me. Who's gonna fix your armour?"

"Me, I guess."

"Please," he rolled his eyes. "I'm dead, now. Killed by German sense of humour."

"I won't impose," he moved the pack to his eye to restrain himself from taking it out its socket, and let go a long breath. Shit, his head was seriously killing him. "Beer?"

"Didn't you get something for the head?" Torbjörn pressed some more buttons on his arm-thing and a red and yellow robot opened the door, rolling a barrel up to them. The bastard had it hidden! He glared at the engineer, and he smirked, smug.

"Most drugs don't mix very well with me," Reinhardt bent over -slowly- to tap the barrel just to notice he did not have a mug. The engineer produced one from one of his pouches, shrugging, and he filled it to the brim. Beer was beer. It'll kill whatever that mug had contained before. "Size, or something."

Torbjörn nodded, then made a face.

"Seeing your disposition to crash, I could make you a helmet. Honestly, I don't understand how you have survived this long without."

"Cause I had friends," Reinhardt said, tasting the beer. It was bitter and dark, just like he was feeling. "Cheers."

"Cheers," the engineer said after a moment, raising his fist against the mug. They remained silent for a moment, until he spoke again. "Well. If you change your mind about your armour let me know. I'd like to see its insides, too, if you know what I mean."

He jumped down to the ground and patted the keg. Reinhardt watched him walk towards the door, feeling the beer turn to ashes in his mouth. The engineer had not left, yet the silence of the white antiseptic room was already deafening, giving rein to the demons on his mind. He left the mug on the nightstand with a shaky hand before he dropped it, and gritted his teeth. Stupid cracked cheekbone. Stupid scar. Stupid painkillers.

He was more than thirty and had seen battle almost all his life. He should not be this weak. This lonely, guilty, and pathetic.

"Wouldn't you drink with me, my friend?" He said, hoping his voice would not crack.

"Hah. I thought you'd never ask!" Torbjörn let go a hearty chuckle and walked back to him, taking off the metallic thing on his arm and leaving it by the bed. Then, somehow he produced another mug from his pouches. "The emergency one," he said, filling it up. "So, what do Germans talk about over beer? Sweethearts?"

Reinhardt woke up to a cramp in his injured shoulder. He had fallen asleep curled on his right side against the bedpost, which probably was not a terrible idea considering how short the bed was in the first place. It was almost dawn outside, but he did not remember Torbjörn leaving. As he massaged the angry muscles into submission, he noticed that his mind seemed sharper despite the horrible throbbing on his skull. He could not be more grateful for it. He did not remember much of what happened during the night other than feeling like shit. They were drinking, exchanging tales about-he had no idea about what.

He stretched out slowly and got up. He was sore the last inch, but he welcomed the sensation. He was alive, and so was the Captain. He felt a pang of guilt, of failure, but he took a deep breath.

It was not in his nature to surrender.

He would fix his armour somehow and, if Overwatch did not want him, he would find another battlefront where he could serve. Fighting was all he knew, after all. If he was not cut out to protect others, he sure as hell was cut out to smash trash cans to pieces.

He looked through the window. The holographic wall did not prevent him seeing the snow and trees around them. It felt peaceful outside. And the doctor said cold would be good for his injuries, did she not?

-000-

Ana woke up startled. She was dreaming of sand and scorching heat. Her rifle. Her friends of old, her father. And then, there were only screams. She touched her midsection tentatively. Breathing ached, but she was not dead. Her mouth tasted terribly, but someone had been so kind as to leave her a glass of water by the side of the bed.

The sun was high in the sky already, she noticed-but that was not what surprised her. There were a bunch of green twigs in a vase, some with small red fruits.

"You're awake at last," she heard a voice, and scrambled to get a pistol she kept close to the bed-header. There was somebody in the lavatory that raised a hand through the open door. "Easy. It's just me."

"Jack," she winced, lowering the gun. "Babysitting me?"

He chuckled, low in his throat.

"I would never dare."

"That's why you brought me flowers?" She made a gesture with her head towards the twigs. Holding herself on the mattress she pushed herself to a sitting position, gasping when the bones grated against each other. It had not been as painful as it was unpleasant, but she still felt nauseous.

"I didn't. They were there when I came," Jack said, sitting on a chair by the bed, elbows on his knees. "I just wanted to make sure you were OK. It was unexpected to return and, well. It is not like you to rush into danger like this."

"It was an emergency," she looked into Jack's eyes, but there was only concern there. "How long have I been out?"

"Twelve hours. The nanites have already repaired most of the damage to the lungs, your team was quick."

"I don't remember what happened. Just the Omnic, and the Lieutenant-" Ana stopped talking. She had a vague memory of the tunnel.

"Who is he, again?" Jack ran a hand over his golden hair. "I've heard some rumours."

"Ah, so you came to gossip, then," she raised an eyebrow, and he chuckled. "Where is Gabriel?"

"Looking for him. Apparently, he is quite difficult to find for a giant Germ-"

The door opened quietly and a blue eye framed by blonde hair peered through the door gap. It was not able to see enough, though, for the gap enlarged until a nose could fit, too.

"Stop being a creep and come in, Lieutenant," she called. "You are anything but stealthy."

He said something under his breath that she could not understand and pushed the door open after a moment. The scar on his forehead had reopened and that whole side of his face was black and purple down to the jaw. It was lucky he did not see with that eye, for it was swollen shut. She remembered the darkness, now. The tunnel, and the golden light coming from the armour. His blood.

It was lucky he did not have a bad concussion, but then, he looked to be quite hard-headed.

"Just came to check how you were feeling, Captain," he said with a tired half-smile, hooking his right hand on his belt. "I'll leave you-"

"There you are!" Gabriel bellowed. The Lieutenant turned around straightaway, blocking the doorway completely. "Bloody hell, I've searched everywhere."

"All right," she sighed. Having so many loud people around her made her head ache even more than her ribs. "Get inside already and don't shout."

The three of them exchanged pleasantries in a quite civilized manner until Gabriel crossed his arms in front of the large German, his best thinking face on. She would have offered the Lieutenant a chair, seeing that his good eye wrinkled in pain every now and then, but it was quite likely it would not hold his weight.

"So you wanna join Overwatch in your General's place," he pursed his mouth. "Computer, mission briefing, yesterday night, Captain Ana Amari's mission."

The metallic voice recounted their landing, her orders. Then switched to visual mode, to the cameras the Strike Team had installed within their equipment. Her warning about the building's condition was perfectly clear, and so were his adamant shoves to the concrete until the workers could pour outside.

She spied the Lieutenant's face changing. It was there for a split a second, but she was trained to _see. _To be fair, he did not make it difficult, wearing his heart on his sleeve as he did.

The ground broke under their feet. As she fell, the footage shook and went black. Then, movement. For a split second light reflected on a polished steel surface very close to the camera, then nothing but blackness.

"Footage from Captain Amari ends here," the computer said. "Showing footage from Chief Engineer Lindholm."

Ana was watching the images of the ship and its defenses, but her mind was racing. The Lieutenant was on the other side of the room when they fell, yet he was by her side when she woke up-in a hole in a wall. All his injuries were on the same side, and her camera shook towards the right. Could it be that he-? She touched her injured ribs and shook her head. Of course it could be.

"You charged me to close the gap of our fall," she snorted softly and he rubbed the back of his neck. "And then crashed into a wall. That's why you are a wreck."

"Sorry about your ribs," he made an apologetic face.

"But we were in a sort of tunnel when I woke up," she frowned.

"Had to break through the wall, there was no ledge over the furnaces," he shrugged a bit, lopsided, and held his left arm with a wince. "Hammer helped a bit."

Torbjörn's footage ended with him exploding an Omnic that was firing against a hole in the ground and their rescue efforts. She made a thin line with her lips. The back of his armour was full of holes and dents, the engine devastated. That was not what she remembered.

"Your armour—"

"Barrier broke," he offered, completing her thoughts. The idiot, she pinched her eyes. He shielded her with his body.

"Just, let me get this straight," Jack ran a hand over his face. "You defied your superior's order, and almost got both of you killed. It was sheer luck the civilians didn't plunge down with you."

The Lieutenant took the heat with his head high and his gaze low, until it was his turn to shoot back.

"I was not going to let them die in an _oven _, Captain," his collected demeanor was only betrayed by the feral look in his eye. "They may have fallen with us, but I gave them an opportunity. Do you-"

"Out there we only have each other," Gabriel intervened. "We cannot afford to be looking at our backs in case our teammates fail to protect us."

"He did not fail to protect us," Ana said in a very calm voice, hands crossed over her lap. He looked at her, surprised first and then grateful. "Computer, recount of civilians?"

"Thirty-four. Two casualties on the way back, two hundred and three casualties before the Strike Team arrived."

"I'm not disputing the results," Jack paced in front of her bed. She shifted on the bed, holding her midsection with a hiss; it was time for her painkillers. "But-"

"Computer, mission briefing, seventeen, twelve. Commander Reyes' mission."

"Computer, abort!" Jack huffed, cheeks turning a shade of pink. "That was nobody's fault!"

"Of course it was," she rolled her eyes. "And Torbjörn was almost permanently blinded."

Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck, and leaned on a wall. She could almost see the cogs turning on his head. He was not that different, Gabriel. Always taking risks, always making sure things went according to plan no matter what-but usually not to save civilians.

"Are you saying you vouch for him, Ana?" He said at last. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure that I'm tired and you won't let me rest," she scratched the bed covers with her short fingernails for a moment. Then, she looked at the Crusader. "He's not without flaw, but he protected the civilians and had my back at his own expense. What else do you expect from a rookie?"

The Crusader took the blow to his pride graciously, lowering his head and saying nothing. That was _unexpected_, based on his file- but the man painted on that file would have not protected her like the one before her did.

"I think she's right, Jackie," the Strike Commander patted his second-in-command on the back. "We could assess him and then decide. Also," he leaned on the German's good arm, a mischievous look on his face, "Lieutenant, do you know how to brew beer?"

The Crusader's face lit up and he grinned as much as his battered face allowed him.

"You really asking that of a German, Commander?"

"Fine, out of here, now," she waved a hand, dismissing them. "Go bond to the mess hall."

"Will visit later," Jack sent her a little smile, still sulking after having lost their unofficial vote.

"We would like to see your armour in action, when possible. No rush. We have a good idea of how you can fit in to the team, but want to assess you in person," Gabriel grinned as they walked.

"Happy to discuss the armour's capabilities before the assessment, Commander."

"May not be a bad idea. Will send Jack your way tomorrow. But now, get back to Med bay and chill. Don't escape the doctors again," Reyes raised an eyebrow, then shook his head. "Shit, you were hell to find."

As soon as they left, Ana asked the computer for her painkillers, and sighed in relief at the silence. She wished to get better soon so she could go see Fareeha. Maybe tomorrow. Or maybe she can ask somebody to bring her to the Med bay for a while. Yes, that could be—

Someone knocked at the door, quietly.

"Come in."

She did not know whether to be annoyed or curious when the German pushed the door again.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"I just wanted to thank you," he said, bowing his head. "Truly appreciate your kind words."

"As I said, you are not without flaw," she raised her eyebrows a bit, but her voice was soft. "But then, none of us are."

His smile broadened, and he fumbled with one of the pockets on his cargo trousers. After a moment, he produced a pine twig.

"I would have brought you flowers to wish you well, you know, but there's just snow around, so…" He said, adding the twig to the vase with the others. "Hope you heal soon."

Ana found herself wanting to genuinely smile, something that did not happen often.

-000-

Reinhardt had promised the Strike Commander he would stay in his room but, instead, he walked past it. He was on the west wing of the building now, was he not? The Engineering Bay was close by.

If he went back to his room it was likely that the doctors would bolt the door to prevent him from escaping again, and there was something he had just realized about his armour. He barely remembered taking it off, and he wanted to make sure it was safe. Not just the suit itself, but the power units. If they had suffered any damage they could be leaking, and that could be disastrous. Not to say explosive.

The moment he opened his container, his heart sank. His armour -or what was left of it- was hanging precariously from the clinches that kept it upright. The left shoulder pad was bent and torn in a way it did not resemble a gryphon any longer, and he could probably fit a finger on the scratches that covered half the chest plate. He took a bullet that had dug into the plating and tugged it out. There were more at the back, quite a lot, actually. He would need to have the whole section done, along with the totaled engine.

In any case, his throbbing head reminded him there would be time to worry about that later. For now, the power units should be the only concern.

He looked around for any tools he could use and noticed people around were looking at him. Hopefully, he would be old news soon enough no matter how tall and bulky he was. He smiled politely, acknowledged some with a gesture of his hand, and went towards a workbench.

First, he would need to take care of the plating. Bent and broken in lots of places, he was not sure he would be able to take the power unit out of its screws and rivets. He would need the wrench with the funny head. Probably the fire-thing as well, to cut off the plate that he could not remove.

Back at the suit and with heap of various tools at his feet, Reinhardt worked on dismantling the power unit at the front. The left side of the cover was bent, and it took him a while to crack the bolts to get it out. The unit itself seemed fine and was easy to pull off; he just had to twist it in the right direction until he heard a _clack _, but the connectors were just too small for his fingers. He growled, twisting his wrist in the hole as much as it went, but there was no chance. If only he could-

A small robotic arm, not thicker than a twig, popped up by his fingers. It patted him so he would move away and then it pulled the connector off. Then, it unhooked the unit completely and disappeared.

The sudden weight on his injured arm made Reinhardt hiss and drop the unit. Thankfully, after some dramatic fumbling, he managed to grab it with his other hand before it hit the floor. He let go a long relieved sigh and looked around to see the Chief Engineer by his side.

"When my minions told me you were here I could not believe it," Torbjörn looked at him with raised eyebrows. "First, count me impressed. Second, you are a moron that should be resting."

"The power units could be damaged, I-"

"I checked for leakage, heat, and power current. Once yesterday, once again this very morning," for a moment, he looked smug, but then he just patted him on the leg. "Good to see you actually thought to secure them, anyway."

"I can do some maintenance," he left the unit on the ground and blew some hair away from his face, tired and aching everywhere. "Replace the plating and some parts, check the engine, keep the parts clean and greased as required..."

When he looked back, the engineer had set a ladder against the side of the armour suit and was peering inside, naming everything he could see- and some things Reinhardt couldn't even name himself.

"Aha! I knew there was something that allowed you to control the engine easily," his voice echoed from inside the armour, where he was now.

"Hadn't you check it twice already?" Reinhardt snorted and sat on the ground, leaning on the side of the container. It was cold, and he turned his head to rest his battered face against it-carefully.

"Never," a finger showed up from behind the chest piece. "Not without your permission."

Reinhardt was about to comment that he had not actually given him permission, but he closed his eye instead. He really did not mind, and he owed the short man big-time already - that, not having into account that he would need him or his team to help him get the plate back into shape and someone to check the electronics for him. Besides, he was starting to seriously regret not having taken his painkillers when he woke up. Striding outside had been a distraction for a while but now his head throbbed with a vengeance, the pain echoing all the way on his injured shoulder.

"How do you survive in here during the hot weather?" Torbjörn's voice sounded both surprised and indignant. "Actually, I don't even know how you survive, period. It seems to be a tight fit, extreme in temperature. And it must weigh a ton."

There was a loud thud of feet reaching the ground, and then some beeps and clicks.

"The back could use additional reinforcements, to help you distribute the weight of the engine better across the back and hips. These fluffy decorations are preposterous, by the way."

He went on, and on, praising this and hating that, until he said _helmet _and Reinhardt gave up listening.

"Ah, there you are, you rascal. See that rug of a man there? Yep, off you go."

Something collided with one of Reinhardt's legs, making him open his eye. A small robot with a couple of arms and a tracked chassis was carrying a bottle of water and a little box with the symbol of the Med bay on it.

"For me?"

"Yes. Don't you dare and die in my bay before I get this mess sorted," he snorted, and dug a couple of bullets off the engine. "You, sir, are a handful."

"It would seem so," he sighed, but was grateful. There were four little pills inside the box, so small Reinhardt had to overturn it on his hand and take them all in one go. No way he could pick them up.

"Just give me a couple of days," the short man continued. "Heal up, settle. I'll keep in touch. May need your input on a couple of things. By the way, I'm not very good at gewgaws," he pointed at the armour ornaments. "I make useful, usable pieces of engineering."

"I truly appreciate your help, my friend, but I don't need a new armour."

He needed half of it repaired, though. But he could not bear the thought of getting rid of the old parts. The gryphon's ornaments were the pride of his Crusader unit, Balderich's emblem. That was all he had left of his friends. Of _him _.

"Not new. Improved," he grinned. "Sturdier."

"Or a helmet."

"Ah, I would kick you if you weren't hurting already. Why are you so damned adamant against it?" The engineer stood in front of him, hands on his hips and all scowl.

"Too hot, hair, and I'm blind enough," he said, raising a finger for each. "Did I say too hot?"

The short man seemed to ponder about it for a moment. He pushed some buttons on the metallic-thing he wore on his arm, displaying a little screen, and nodded.

"I couldn't care less about your hair, but I've got some good ideas for the real problems. We'll do some tests, eh? You cannot be admitted to Overwatch with a broken armour. The Strike Commander would want to see you in action."

Reinhardt took a deep breath and rubbed his good eye with a hand. He felt weak, bone-weary. Yet, he pushed all that away and nodded. Torbjörn was offering help freely and generously, too, considering they had barely met and it would cost him lots of work hours. It would be extremely rude to turn him down.

Maybe he could store the pieces until he could find someone that could repair them -or make them anew. Yeah. That sounded like a good idea.

"I'll help you as I can, then," he said, leaning his head against the container again. "But later, if you don't mind."

"Yeah, you rest for now. Probably at somewhere more comfortable than the floor of my rather-clean- but probably-still-not-very-hygienic bay, though."

"Can't move," Reinhardt slurred, his tongue weighing more than his armour. One of the pills he had taken was dragging him under.

-000-

Three days later, Ana was discharged from Med bay with strict orders not to overdo it-at least for a week. That meant no running, no weight-lifting, and no missions until she was completely cleared.

That also meant, unfortunately, that she could catch up with paperwork. She was responsible for a bunch of soldiers-their training, their goals, their development as snipers. She sighed. At least, she would have more time for Fareeha, even if she could not carry her.

Someone knocked at the door of her small office and came through. It was Gabriel, carrying a mug of hot chocolate in hand.

"Bringing gifts is not your style," she raised an eyebrow when he gave her the mug.

"Jack says hi," he half-smiled. Then, he produced a little bag from one of the pouches of the hoodie he was wearing. A bag with a doughnut. "This, believe it or not, was my idea."

"What do you need help with?"

The Strike Commander paced by her side, chuckling. Ana took a piece of the doughnut; it was freshly made, soft and with a cracking layer of thin sugar on top. Nice of them to remember how to bribe her.

"We'll assess the Lieutenant. Though you may want to come by? You've seen him in action."

"Don't," she pointed at him. "He cracked his skull. Three days is not enough to heal that, and nanites are no good for the head."

"He seems fine to me?"

She put down the remaining half of the doughnut, then glared at him. Gabriel crossed his arms, tapped his fingers on his bicep, and cleared his throat.

"What I meant is that we could see the tests Torb is running on the armour. They've been fixing it up."

"They?" Ana picked up her present again and dipped it in the hot chocolate. "He's been helping? And you let him?"

"Worrying about people is Jack's job," he raised his hands asking for peace. "I run the rest of the base."

She rolled her eyes. Sometimes she wondered how they had survived for a year as a group- and as a base. It was not a matter of being good at their jobs-which they were, of course, but rather of being bad, random, and awkward at everything else. And she included herself that bunch, even if she had managed to be the voice of reason of the team so far.

"I'll go with you before you get him killed-or he kills himself," she sighed. Well. At least it was not paperwork, and she got a nice breakfast for free.

They walked to the engineering bay chatting about the facilities. In truth, Gabriel did a great job at keeping everything running efficiently bearing in mind the amount of time he had to spend talking to the UN board. He had told them of her success saving civilians in the last instance, and the recruitment of their newest member, too. They seemed pleased, which was always good-it meant money, and money meant they could keep on fighting and helping people.

When they arrived, Ana saw they had cleaned up a lot of space in the bay, piling work benches and other equipment to one side. There were several lines marked on the ground that held no meaning for her and, in a corner, the Lieutenant was suited up in what looked a mashed-up half-armour. Big chunks of the internal and external plating were missing, and she could see half of his right leg and part of his left shoulder and arm. Bits and pieces were rough and unpolished as if they had just come out from the forge, standing out from the overly-decorated originals. Funny enough, he was wearing a rounded helmet with what seemed like a sort of visor. Several very-much-unfinished cables dangled to the sides of his exposed neck, attaching the helmet to the armour somehow.

A thick black cable was connected to the middle of the chest piece while another one hooked just beneath the engine. They were suspended from the ceiling like oversized hoses, mounted on rails so they could move, trembling when the engine roared into life, ungeared.

Ana and Gabriel reached the large box where Jack was sitting, suited for combat. His rifle and visor were nowhere to be seen, which made Ana cock her head. Maybe they did not plan to shoot at the Lieutenant, after all. Maybe they just wanted to have some sort of macho display of fists and muscles. She did not know what was worse, though.

"You've not suited up, Gabe."

"Assessment's been cancelled," the Commander jumped stupidly high thanks to his enhanced super-soldier body and joined his friend atop of the box. Bastards. She humphed and went looking for Torbjörn. He was on a metallic platform from where he could see practically everything around, holding a device covered in buttons of some sort.

"I see you have been having fun," she told him, and the engineer grinned.

"Glad to see you back on your feet, Captain," he saluted briefly. "And yes, we've been doing some experimenting."

He produced a comm unit for her from one of his pockets and she equipped it. The Lieutenant seemed to be standing idly, but she could see the fingers of the armour twitching-first randomly, then in order. Then they flexed, forming large fists.

"What are you testing?"

"All of it. I practically dismantled the whole thing and put it back together."

"Gabriel said the Lieutenant is helping you."

"When he's not passed out on the ground like an oversized bag of potatoes, yes," he chuckled, and Ana tried hard not to hide her face in her hands. "He knows more than I gave him credit for and that has speed up many design points."

"You made him a helmet."

"Please, a tactical visor. A hearing enhancement. It has comms, ventilation. Even music, if he feels inclined," the short man raised a finger for each, then turned towards the armour. "Hey, how're things there?"

"Back plate is overheating," they heard the Lieutenant say. The audio was cracking, actually, but Ana guessed it was due to the helmet being halfway done. "Arms seem a bit stiff."

"That may be you and not the armour, Lieutenant."

"Captain! Glad to see you around," he laughed heartily and turned around, flexing his bulky armoured arms at her and walking in a little circle so she could appreciate the work.

"Right. We've got them all here already. You think you can do a demonstration?" Torbjörn's voice sounded proud, confident. "I have some dummies ready."

"Of course!" He chuckled at the comm, excited.

Torbjörn's pressed a couple of buttons, and a hatch in the wall furthest to their left opened up. Three robots of different sizes popped out. They were no more than a chassis with wheels and a plate, although one of them was thicker, bulkier. With a nudge to another button, the robots rolled to different places marked with crosses on the ground.

The Lieutenant walked as far as the cables allowed him, placing him around ten feet from the first robot. They were roughly on a line and, way behind them, there was a concrete wall that marked the end of the engineering bay. Ana crossed her arms. The amount of space suggested they intended to test the charge indoors at some point, which may not be a great idea. Still, she trusted the engineer. He knew his job, the risks, and the challenges. If he thought they could do this in a safe, controlled manner, she would say nothing about it.

What intrigued her was the number of robots. Why three?

"Ok, let's do this. I see all green here, Reinhardt. Thoughts?"

"All green here, too. Let's see if it's true," he chuckled, bending to retrieve the rocket hammer from the ground. He jumped on site a couple of times, the heavy suit clanking against the slatted floor, and then off he went.

The ground trembled literally as he ran, hammer in hand. Hydraulics or not, watching him move that weight was nothing sort of impressive. He swung the hammer-which was likely to weigh the same as Ana- without stopping, and the robot exploded into pieces that flew off over Jack and Gabriel's heads, reaching the other side of the bay. In front of him, at more than twenty feet, was the next robot, but he stepped to his right, balanced the hammer for an instant and freaking threw it as if was nothing.

It made a hole on the wall, taking half of the third robot with it.

"Holy shit," Ana heard one of the boys over the box say, but the Lieutenant was not done. The engine at his back roared and she grabbed the rails of the platform.

The Lieutenant charged the remaining robot. He pinned it effortlessly with his forearm and kept heading forward. The thick main feeding the back of the armour disconnected with a rain of sparks as he crashed the poor thing against the wall.

Just-he did not actually crash. He merely bounced back with a loud thud of metallic boots on the floor. Ana frowned. Not that she wanted him to slam against a wall, but that was unexpected. There was no dent in the armour or in the helmet that she could see. The robot was crushed. She still could not believe it.

"Aaand that's just half the power of the engine," Torbjörn put his hands on his hips, grinning at Ana. "He should be able to halve a Bastion at full power-if he hasn't blown it to smithereens with that hammer first, that is."

"You are really invested in this."

The Lieutenant patted the helmet. The audio cracked and frizzed, and suddenly they could hear him.

"Was it any good?" He said, turning towards the broken pieces at his side. He went to pick the hammer from the ground and grunted in pain, letting it fall flat again.

"All good there, my oversized friend?" Torbjörn walked down the platform, and Ana found herself following him. She watched the large armour walk slowly towards the main that had disconnected from its chest and plug it again.

"Charging may have not been the best idea," the Lieutenant chuckled on the comm, voice strained as he walked slowly towards them.

"Ah, but it was impressive, I assure you. We'll get you more meds in a moment."

"When did you adopt him, Torb?" She asked, eyebrow raised. "It is not like you to collect lost things."

"Ah, the other night we had some beers," he waved a hand. "He's a good chap, silly as hell. He can use a chance."

The Lieutenant had stopped in front of them by the time Ana and the engineer reached Gabriel and Jack, and he took the helmet off with a large hand. It was still hooked with cables, so he let it dangle over his chest. The bruise was changing colours already, but the blond stubble did not hide the overall tiredness on his face or how his eyes wrinkled every now and then.

Ana pursed her lips; she should make Gabriel to sort the Med Bay as soon as possible. They were short of everything-starting with funding, and ending with drugs and nanites, That really impaired the ability of the non-super-soldiers to be operative again quickly after injury.

"Well, well, impressive, Lieutenant," Gabriel clapped his hands a couple of times, breaking the silence that had descended over them. "I, for one, was not expecting you to be a killing machine."

"A crushing machine, maybe," he looked down for a moment, humble but pleased. "My aim was a bit off, unfortunately."

"It was fantastic. Jackie here will be delighted to do your assessment," he patted him on the shoulder, and Jack looked at him as if he had committed the worst crime in history.

"Not now," Ana crossed her arms.

"Not now, not now. Jack definitely will need to train quite a lot if he wants a chance," he burst out laughing, and Jack put an arm around his neck with a terrible, murderous smile painted on his face.

"Oh no, both of us will be training," he squeezed the Strike Commander's neck. "But, didn't you have a shield, Lieutenant?"

"Barrier is not operative at the moment, I'm afraid," he raised his left arm slightly, where parts were missing.

"We didn't have time to prepare it all, you guys were impatient to see him in action," Torbjörn crossed his arms.

"Were they, now?" She made a thin line with her mouth, and Jack pushed Gabriel towards her, mouthing _his fault _. Of course it was. The Strike Commander just shrugged. "I suggest we wait at least a week before we have this conversation again, during which there will be no assessments and no strenuous tests on the armour while it is half-done."

He was her Commander and she would rather not kick him in the nuts in front of others, but he deserved it. Irresponsible little shit. She deserved more than one doughnut.

"Agree," the Lieutenant half-raised a hand. When the rest stood in silence, he continued. "It'll help the assessment, I think."

"Ah, to hell with the assessment," Gabriel rolled his eyes and put a hand on his hip, theatrically. "You'll have a three-month probation period, which is more than enough time to get that armour fixed and some Omnic arses kicked as assessment. Anyone disapprove? No? Then welcome to Overwatch, Lieutenant Wilhelm."

There he went again, all rush. Ana snorted but, before she could mentally disapprove of his methods as the situation required, the Lieutenant dropped to a knee.

"Thank you," he said, all solemnity. "I swear on my Crusader vows I will not disappoint you."

Torbjörn clanked his metallic arm work-aid against the armour, and the Strike Commander boomed:

"Let's celebrate!"


	2. The First Years, Oct 2046

That night was one of those rare nights when half the Strike Team was on the base and, when that happened, they always insisted on having dinner together. Chill watching a film, maybe. Or have some beers at the canteen. Ana was not exactly excited about their gatherings, since they always ended up talking about work anyway, but it was better to show up and leave early than have them pestering her all the time.

The canteen was a well-illuminated rectangular room, painted white with a green line near to the ceiling. At the side, there was a bar with stools, where Reinhardt was already waiting. The German was always on time, even early and, with those camouflage cargo pants and a black t-shirt, he looked like a tank from his motherland-as bulky and strong. He bowed the moment he saw her, a grin on his face.

"Captain!"

The other ladies in the room send Ana hateful glances, which always made her purse her lips to contain a laugh. It was beyond ridiculous that they were jealous of her.

Reinhardt waited for her with his hands on his hips until she was close enough to offer her a stool.

"I'm glad you joined us," he leaned on the bar once she took her sit, then ran a hand over his golden mane.

"Jack is very insistent when he sets his mind on something," Ana picked up her long hair and braided it over her shoulder with quick movements. "Is something the matter, Lieutenant? You keep staring."

"You are so beautiful I cannot help myself," he chuckled, looking away and burying his face in his mug. Did she see pink on his cheeks?

"Wait. I didn't know you could get embarrassed," she crossed her arms, looking at him intently now.

"Ah, make fun if you may," he brought his stool a bit closer to hers. "I was actually wondering about the drawing under your eye. You never talk much about yourself."

"Not much to say, in truth," she said, picking up a discarded datapad that was lying at the bar. "The tattoo is the eye of Horus, an Egyptian symbol of protection and good health. My parents had it done to me when I was run over by a car-it's served me well all these years."

"Oh, I see," he looked sheepish for a moment, then finished his mug. "I thought you painted it every morning."

"It would smear every time I used the rifle," she made a small gesture with a hand. Then, she checked the datapad-a message. "Jack won't come, after all. Well. I think I'll go back to my quarters."

"What-but, wouldn't you have dinner with me, at least?" Ana froze at the hurt tone, and he took her silence the wrong way. "Ah, well," he rubbed the back of his head, "I didn't realize the prospect was that terrible."

"It's nothing personal," she said, a bit surprised that she had to actually make the point. "I'm tired and still have things to do, that's all."

"It's fine, no need to explain," Reinhardt leaned his back on the bar, and blew some hair away. He was smiling, even if it did not reach his eyes. "Rest, Captain. I'll see you at briefing time."

She pursed her lips. If she had learned something about him in the months they had been working together, it was that he liked having company. He would rather be with any of them doing something he did not like than being left to his own devices. Ah, she almost sighed. One of the things she disliked about Overwatch was that she had ended up caring about her comrades. She tried not to, she really did, because people died in wars and she already had seen more than enough death to fill several lifetimes. The last thing she wanted was to see dead even more people she cared about, but...

Jack would worry about everyone, making sure they were tucked on their beds every night. Gabriel spoiled them rotten with fast-food, ice-cream, and beer on movie nights. Torb would rework their weapons and armour to perfection even during his spare time so they were safe on the battlefield. And Reinhardt-he could make the three guys roll on the ground with laughter. He could make her smile more frequently than any other.

She hated the thought of getting close to any of them but, as selfish as it was, she did not want to lose those little things that made her life bearable. Ana looked at the big oaf, making a thin line with her mouth. As little as she liked it, maybe it was time to give him something in return, let him know her biggest secret-a secret the rest of their unit already knew.

"I need to go visit somebody before getting to my room," she said, putting her hands on the pockets of her wool overcoat. "There's some food there, I think, but may be a bit bland for your t-"

"Really?" He started very enthusiastically, but ended the word hesitantly. "No need to, Captain. It's fine."

He was going to make her say it, right? Yes, he was.

"It's an order, Lieutenant," she raised an eyebrow, and measured her next words carefully, to use them as bait. "It's time you meet her."

"Meet who?"

"Come and see."

"I don't think I've ever been to this side of the building," Reinhardt said, looking around as they walked.

Ana had felt weird every time she had walked those corridors with her other team members, and this time was no exception. They all took it well, though, so there was no real reason to get nervous-other than because she was revealing her private life, and thus making her vulnerable.

She pushed the last door between them and their destination and heard him take a sharp intake of breath.

"Captain, you-" the large German looked at her in awe. She half-smiled but said nothing, walking a bit faster to get inside before he did.

The nursery was a squarish room with shelves full of stuffed toys and fable books. The walls were splotched with butterflies, flowers, cute animals and cars with eyes-same as the little tables and chairs that were now gathered on a corner. A huge stuffed robot served as clothes-hanger; princess dresses, cowboy hats and robot suits dangled on its many arms.

Ana liked the place. It had been a bit lacking when she joined Overwatch, but she was not the only parent with infant children. Soon the caretaker asked Gabriel for a budget to liven up the nursery, and the kids loved the change. It was actually great coming there and not seeing just white and grey, for a change.

In front of the gathered tables and chairs, there was a door with a huge sunflower painted on it, almost closed. Being quite late already, Nana sure was getting the little ones to sleep already.

Ana opened the door slowly in case it made a sound and found Nana's eyes straight away. She was around her age, long dark hair always picked in a thick braid at her back-or, she joked, it would eat her up like a troll.

Several little heads popped up from their cots to look at them and there was Fareeha, looking at them with large golden almond eyes. Ana walked towards her with soundless steps and picked her up, her soft dark hair making her nose tingle. She was such a good baby girl, never complaining, never crying when she got her up-even though Ana could barely spend time with her.

Seeing her only once a day hurt in a way she could not even begin to explain.

She turned towards the large German, just to see him struggling to keep a straight face, eye glinting. Ana closed the door behind them and snorted slightly; she could not believe he had kept quiet for this long.

"Well, say what you may," she sat on one of the little chairs while the Lieutenant lowered himself to the ground near her feet. "Her name is Fareeha."

"She's the cutest thing, ever!" He grinned. "Hello, little Captain," he touched her back, slowly, and Fareeha looked behind her. "Ah, she looks just like you!"

Ana hummed and the little one bopped the German on the nose, which made him dissolve in chuckles.

"How do you do it? Have her, train, fight with us… It's amazing," he looked at her in awe while offering a finger to Fareeha to play with.

"It doesn't feel like that," she sighed, sitting Fareeha on her knees. She was sleepy and yet she wanted down. Ana let her go on her little legs and watched her run towards the large stuffed robot. "But thanks."

He laid on the ground and stretched, his hands almost reaching the girl. She could see the gears in his mind turning, and waited for the inevitable question -or questions- but none came.

"Now I understand what keeps you always so busy," he wiggled his fingers at Fareeha, who put a cowboy hat over them. "Bet nothing can compete with her."

Ana wished that was true. She tried so hard to be a good Captain and a good mother, but sometimes it was just not possible to do both. She had to leave headquarters for long periods just like anyone else, always afraid Fareeha would not remember her when she was back. _If _she came back.

"All I want is to build a better world for her," she said in the end, weariness seeping into her bones.

"Play," Fareeha chirped, patting the hat.

"Ah, ah, if you want to play, you come here first, little miss," Reinhardt looked at her upside down, hands extended and grinning like a maniac, and she giggled. She had a magic wand in her hand, and ran towards him either to turn him into a frog or a prince charming.

Hat discarded, the Lieutenant picked her up as if she was nothing, making her fly over one of his hands.

"Shoot some stars, pew, pew!"

"Pew, pew, pew!" She was like a little airplane going up, down, and everywhere his arm reached.

"Whenever I've said you have never grown up, I didn't imagine it was this literally," Ana smiled from the little chair, her face in her hands. Fareeha had her arms extended as if they were little wings, giggling. It was going to be hell to get her to sleep now, she thought, but seeing her this happy made it all worthwhile.

"Big one for mommy?" He bopped her nose with his little finger, and she started making big circles with her whole arm while making noises. "Well done! Have some rest, now. Flying is tiring for little princesses."

He put her down on his chest and yet she still waved the wand happily, giggling every now and then.

"I had a little sister. We played lots," he said, keeping the little hands busy when she attempted to hit him in the face with her dazzling weapon. "Ah, that sounded like-_ Nein _. She went to the UK with mom when my parents divorced. I was sent to boarding school, then."

"That's how you ended up with the Crusaders?"

"The army came looking for recruits when I was sixteen. The Crusaders formed years after that," she could not see his face, but his voice sounded relaxed. For all he talked, Ana realized she did not know about his life. But stories about his battles and Germany? She had heard hundreds of those by now. "Ow, ow, not the hair, you evildoer," he picked her up by the clothes on her back and blew raspberries on her tummy.

Ana felt the corners of her mouth tugging into a little smile. She liked to play with her daughter, but those things Reinhardt was doing with her? They were impossible for her. She was too serious, too strict. Maybe she had just forgotten how to have fun at that level, how to connect with playful children. Maybe she never knew how to do it in the first place.

The large man picked Fareeha up once more, settled her effortlessly on one of his arms, and got up.

"I think this little yawning bundle is yours to put to bed, Captain," he smiled, running a hand through his hair to get it back into an acceptable shape.

"She likes you," she said, picking her up and leaning her against her chest. "More than Torb, I think. And he was her favourite."

"Of course," he flexed one of his bulky arms, chuckling. "But I'll leave you now. I'm starting to see this little darling as hamburger meat. Hmmm, so soft and tender," he ate one of her little fingers and cackled.

"Fine. You are dismissed, but don't eat anyone on the way," Ana hid a chuckle on her daughter's hair, and shook her head.


	3. The First Years, Nov 2046

When Overwatch received a call to assist the German army, it was logical that the Strike Commander would call Reinhardt to be on the team. The only thing the team knew when they took off was that a terrorist group had taken hostages in Stuttgart. The police's efforts were not enough and, even if the army wanted to help, they were stretched thin with the Omnics already.

The mission should have been easy. First, jump into the building from their ship. Reinhardt's armour would break through and thus open a way in. Gabriel and Jack would follow, find the hostages and kick some arse. They were not talking about Omnics here, just some random thugs trying to extort the Government. All in all, it would have been easy, if not for a little _complication; _One of the supposed terrorists wore a power armor and a huge hammer- and by all accounts the colours of the Crusaders all over him. Without the helmet, it was easy for Reinhardt to see who he was; Adalgar, a lost brother, found again. But that brother was a terrorist killing for money and to screw with the Government.

Reinhardt tried to talk to him, anyway. Reason. Offer him a way out. It was a brother-in-arms, after all, one that should have been dead with the rest of their unit. They had laughed and bled together, he took the same oath Reinhardt did; surely he could see reason... but Adalgar's hammer talked for him.

They fought, two titans in armour suits exchanging blows that could demolish buildings. Reinhardt's improved armour was sturdier, though, but he was not fighting to win. He did not want to hurt him, he wanted to take him back home... and Adalgar used his kindness to crush his right knee and disable him.

Gabriel and Jack, who had been punching the light out of the rest of the terrorists, almost did not see the Crusader charging towards them. They dodged in the last second, and Jack almost did not had time to kick a grenade to the other side of the room before it blew them and the hostages to pieces.

Just when Gabriel had a clear headshot, Reinhardt charged his old comrade. Hammer in hand, he used its shaft and the charge's momentum to go for his exposed throat.

The terrorist's gurgling when he broke his trachea was anything but pretty.

"Get to Med bay," Gabriel told Reinhardt once they landed in HQ. "Don't trust Jack with your leg-you'll end with a limp. I know what I'm talking about."

The blond super-soldier rolled his eyes and hung his rifle on his back.

"Ingratitude. That's all I get for my efforts, as usual," Jack said, absolutely theatrical. Then, he clapped Reinhardt on the shoulder. "Sure you don't want that beer?

"I'm good, thanks," he said, not even looking up.

"Don't give it much thought, pretty boy," Gabriel ran a hand through Reinhardt's blonde mane, messing it all the way. "Any of us would have done the same."

Reinhardt gritted his teeth and got up. Rubbish. His words were absolute rubbish, and he had been fooled enough today for a lifetime. He was so angry and disappointed that he barely felt the pain in his leg as they disembarked. The two super-soldiers kept chatting, trying to include him in the conversation despite of his hermetic silence, and Reinhardt slowed down his limping until he managed to lose sight of them near Med Bay. The moment they were gone, he headed for the gym.

The punching bag didn't know what hit it. Reinhardt was a bloody idiot for trusting blindly, and Adalgar was a bloody traitor and one of his fucking brothers.

How dared he?

_How could he?_

The chains that held the bag in place groaned at the punishment until they finally snapped. It made a hell of a noise when it slammed on the ground, but Reinhardt could not hear it over the thumping of blood on his ears. All he could see- all he could feel, was rage. Panting, he looked around for his next victim; the bench press.

That would do, too. Brute strength training and fighting gave his destructive instincts a way out every time he needed it.

Reinhardt grabbed the barbell that was already set up -it was not heavy enough for him, but he was not walking all the way towards the weights and back- and he pushed it up. Again. And again. And if his muscled burned, he pushed them harder.

With a last push, after what felt like an eternity, Reinhardt put the barbell on its hooks. Then, he let his arms fall to his sides, weighing a ton each. Raising a hand to take the sweaty hair off his face was an incredible effort, and he almost laughed at the ache running through his whole body. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his breath, his emotions spent with his energy.

Someone sat by his side, and he tensed involuntarily. He had not heard any sound or footsteps but, if that someone wanted him dead, he would be already.

"Hey," Ana said, her voice low.

Shit, no. Not her, not now.

Reinhardt said nothing, hoping Ana would just take the clue and leave him be. When he almost thought he had won the battle, she squeezed his injured knee. _Hard_. Sharp pain lanced through his leg and he bolted upright with a yelp, squirming away from her.

"Was that really necessary?" He asked between teeth, digging his fingers into the thigh.

"You're injured and yet at the gym," she said with a long, disapproving breath. "You deserve what happens to you."

"Bench-pressing doesn't hurt, unlike your small fingers," he frowned, then looked away. He did not want to see the disappointment in her eyes.

"Come to Med Bay, let the doctors have a look."

"I'm fine. Jack took care of it."

"Please," she rolled her eyes. "You want to limp for the rest of your life?"

"Captain, I-"

"Hush," she put a hand on his arm and sat by his side. He took a deep breath, annoyed by her perseverance but unable to get up and walk away just yet. "Jack told me what happened. I'm sorry."

He did not know what to say. He was sorry, too. And angry. And disappointed. And then, not that sorry anymore and just frustrated with himself.

It was a blessing that he was exhausted.

"You are still conflicted about what happened," she looked at him with that expression that said she could read him like it was nothing. Argh. He rubbed the back of his head. "Don't panic. I won't ask you to talk about it."

Her words took a weight out of his shoulders, but also made him frown.

"You came to pick on me, then?"

"I'm here to shred you to pieces and throw your limbs to the lions," Ana said with a straight face, glare and all. "But then, I think you've done a good job yourself already," she pointed at his raw knuckles. _Raw _knuckles. He had not even noticed them.

"Ah, the bag got it much worse," he snorted, a bit proud of himself, and she rolled her golden eyes. There was no disappointment in them, no anger. That made him bold. "You think I screwed up?"

"I think you did what you thought best with the information you had."

He liked her. He would admit it _to himself _anytime, no problem. But he hated with a passion when she talked as if she contained the wisdom of the Universe and yet she would not reveal it. It was usually his fault for asking, though. At least, this time he was not completely clueless about what she meant.

"You could have said, 'Yes, Reinhardt, you screwed up. Big time.'"

"See?" Ana chuckled, stretching her arms forward. Her wrist datapad flashed, but she put it to sleep with a flick of her wrist. "You are doing a magnificent work."

He snorted, and she patted his shoulder.

"Maybe I wouldn't have done the same, but that doesn't mean it was not the right thing for you to do," she continued.

"I could have gotten us killed."

"He was your friend. It's… understandable," Ana laced her fingers, looking at the ground. There was something in her pose, a weight on her shoulders, but it disappeared as soon as she turned to look at him.

He would not have tried to talk had he not been his friend, that was for sure. A lost friend. Reinhardt rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe she was right. If another friend showed up, even after many years, he would not charge head-on to kill them without a word. How could he?

Maybe he would not try to convince them in close range. Maybe he would have a hand on his hammer, but sure as hell he would try to get things right again. That was their oath. Look out for each other, protect your family, fuck up your enemies.

Ana's wrist datapad started flashing again, and she made a face.

"Let's get you to the Med bay before Jack has a fit."

"He's a worrier."

"Like you wouldn't believe," she sighed. "Come on, up."

Reinhardt got up forcing all his weight on his good leg. The knee protested as it straightened, cold and stiff after having been bent for a while, but that was nothing compared to putting weight on it again. He hissed. It would not be a bad idea to go to have it checked again, after all.

Ana sneaked under his left arm and held his weight as much as she was able to.

"You ok?" Her right arm half-circled his waist, and he bit himself inside the mouth to prevent a smile from creeping up. But she was so cute, _so small_, that he could not help himself.

"Please carry me, Captain," he gave up, his voice cracking as he laughed. Their height and weight difference was such that it would never work out, but he was so pleased to know that she cared that he hugged her against him. Her hair smelled of mint, and he grinned like a fool.

He liked her. He liked her _lots_.

"You big idiot," she punched him in the ribs with her free hand. "I should totally let you fall to your face."

"Don't get angry, _maus _, I'll treat you to beer," he chuckled, more at peace that he was while killing his arms on the press. "We'll get Jack and Gabriel, too. I owe them. And Torbjorn wouldn't miss beer for anything."

"Only if you can get to the canteen," she humphed.

"I'll crawl if I have to."


	4. The First Years, Dec 2046

Ana knocked at the door of Jack's room and came in after hearing a throaty answer. He had caught something nasty in Singapore and was feeling terrible. It was quite strange for a super-soldier to get that sick, but he was a proper rug, a pale ghost with dark mark under his eyes and an oversized polar fleece on.

He had been confined to his rooms for days, working on paperwork and meetings to keep the base running while Gabriel was away with Torbjörn securing different places of the globe.

She raised an eyebrow at the sight of empty cups of tea littering the furniture. And papers, piles of paper.

"Hey," he rasped, leaving some papers on his lap. His golden hair was either down or sticking up in the wrong places, his eyes sunk into his face. "All good?"

"I should be asking that," Ana rubbed her hands together. It was cold at the base despite the heating-but then, it was absolutely freezing outside. "Still not getting better?"

"Not getting worse, either," he shrugged, rubbing the stubble on his cheek. "Just bored of being here. Restless, if you know what I mean."

"We could have a movies night after I get Fareeha to sleep," she cocked her head. "With a blanket and lots of tea."

Jack chuckled and coughed at all the same time.

"Ana, you proposing to socialize? Has the Christmas spirit rubbed off on you?"

"Silly," she rolled her eyes and leaned on a desk full of papers. She barely cared about her own religion, and she was not going to care for another. "It's technically almost New Year, anyway. _Your _New Year."

"Ah, don't remind me. I don't know how many papers and reqs I've seen regarding the party," he sighed, and a shiver made him curl inside the fleece. "You know what? I love the idea of blankets and movies. Same room as always?"

"The one with the large couch, yes," she tapped at the table. "Get enough food, I know of somebody that eats for the two of us."

"Ah, you think Reinhardt would want to join us? Today, of all days?" Jack put all the papers aside and got up, straightening a bit his crumpled cotton pajama trousers. "I'd imagine he would be quite busy at the party."

There was bitterness in his words despite his relaxed face. It was not long ago that Ana had noticed a subtle change on the base. The ladies, who were in a rough 30/70 ratio to the men, kept on staring longingly at the Overwatch promotional poster that Gabriel made Reinhardt pose for. She did not know what was more amusing, the poster or the ladies themselves. When she commented about it with Gabriel, the Strike Commander said that the only thing he knew was that Jack was extremely annoyed at the competency. That just made the whole business even funnier.

"I bet you'd rather he would not. Not used to having competitors, are you?" Ana smiled, playfully. "You just cannot believe there is someone taller, stronger, and with better hair than you."

"Oh, don't start. I've enough from Gabe," Jack ran a hand through his messy blond hair and walked towards the sink.

"I won't ask him if you're uncomfortable, but he is very-How can I say it? He'll hate us meeting and not telling him."

"He's emotionally insecure," he snorted, splashing water on his face. "And you chicks dig that."

Ana laughed at the idea of Reinhardt being insecure about anything. It was preposterous, just like Jack's idea about what women liked. She did not correct him, thought, not wanting to chip his ego further. As he made himself barely decent, she poked her wrist datapad and called the German.

It did not take him half a ring to pick up.

"Captain! Such a nice surprise. Can I do anything for you?" He bellowed through the tiny speakers, his ever-present smile touching his voice.

"Jack's feeling poorly, we'll watch some films tonight, have dinner together. Would you-"

"YES."

She snorted softly. He was impossible.

"There is a party at the canteen, in case you don't know," shew explained. "Don't feel obliged-"

"No obligation! I love hanging around with you guys."

"In two hours, at the Apollo XII meeting room."

When Ana arrived at the meeting room she found that there was quite a lot of food on the table by the sofa. It was covered by a small plasma dome that hummed softly, half opaque with condensation. There was also a large cylindrical container with a label of 'HOT' plastered all over its circumference and a handful of mugs.

Strange enough, Reinhardt was not there yet. She draped the blanket she brought from her room over the sofa and turned to hit her nose against a wall.

"Ow, shit, what the-"

The wall grabbed her by the shoulders softly before she backtracked, and she found the missing mountain of a man just in front of her, looking apologetic and yet amused.

"Would have never imagined I could sneak up on you," he chuckled softly, letting her go. "Sorry. Food was too tempting, so I went for a stroll."

His rumbling stomach seemed to agree with his tale, and she rubbed the bridge of her nose. It was indeed strange he could sneak on her with his usually heavy footstep-

"Oh," she raised her eyebrows at his fluffy white slippers, almost laughing at the sight. Thankfully she was very good at keeping her face straight. "I was definitely not expecting you to be the type to use these."

She was not expecting they made fluffy slippers in that size, either. Fareeha had smaller stuffed animals at the nursery.

"They're great! Soft and warm. I'll get you a pair."

"That's very nice of you, but I'm good with mine," Ana patted his arm and turned towards the sofa. It was large enough to hold two super-soldiers and someone else, but she was not that sure it would cope with Reinhardt. "Would you mind sitting there?"

"Now?" He moved when she nodded and sat at the very center-not without bumping into the table and the water cylinder first. She was quick to stabilize the later, and he sent her a grateful smile.

Ana had thought he was clumsy, at first, but it was not really that. He was a big guy surrounded by things not made for his height and weight. And, if that was not enough of a problem, the dents on several doorways -all at the same height, on the same side- made her think sometimes he struggled to measure depth properly with his one eye.

The sofa made a pitiful sound, but it held. Unfortunately, there was not much space left to the sides for Jack and herself-until he put his bear arms around the back of the sofa with a sheepish face. She noticed then that his silhouette contrasted against the sky-blue of the sofa's fabric. He was clad in black, wearing a long-sleeved turtle-neck black sweater and black jeans hugging his muscles. The longish hair was trapped in a low and messy ponytail, so it was just his slippers standing out from his attire.

It was not that he did not wear black on a regular basis-the suit he used under the armour was black and blue, for example- but there was something sober about his looks that she could not pinpoint.

"Everything all right, Captain?" His voice brought her back to Earth, and her eyes snapped to his face. He was grinning like an idiot. "You seem distracted."

"If you haven't noticed yet, sometimes I over-analyze what is going on around me. Call it occupational idiosyncrasy," she shrugged, sitting down at the border of the sofa. Maybe the date or the attire had some meaning for him, but since he seemed in good spirits she would rather not poke. "Have you thought about-?"

"Hey," Jack's raspy voice came from the door. He looked just as bad as two hours before if not worse, a checkered blanket wrapped around his shoulders. "Ah, food is here too, grand."

"Ah, you look like crap, Jack," Reinhardt patted the empty space to his left. "Come here, my friend."

To say Jack was not pleased with the sofa arrangement was an understatement, but he said nothing and sat all the same, curling himself and his blanket at the very corner.

They chatted amicably as they ate, not really dwelling on this or that for any length of time. Food was a fantastic blend of spices and textures; there were four dishes of beef that Reinhardt seemed to favour over anything else, veggie rolls, carrot batons, stuffed chicken, and of course, curry. Jack loved the curry, even if he barely ate a spoonful or two.

There was a big countdown over the speakers as the year slipped through their fingers, and Jack raised his tea mug.

"To our friends. Those out there, and those waiting for us," he said, and they toasted.

A blanket of silence descended upon them. Before Ana could even think about her lost comrades -her previous family-, a large hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled at her. She heard a gasp coming from Jack and she managed to see him dragged into a bear hug as well. Reinhardt's body was warm and strong, and as tense as if he was about to jump away.

"Ugh, you big bear," Jack groaned, squeezed at the other side of the Crusader's chest. "Can do with a lot less love."

"Thanks for tonight," he said, a quivering smile on his face. Ana snorted softly. All his emotions always flowed raw through him- which was exactly why she did not want to pry about his choice of attire, but Jack had to be solemn.

"Computer, play a film," she heard him rasp, maybe realizing his mistake. "A _happy _film."

The lights dimmed and the screen burst into life. The Crusader let them go with a sigh, hooking his arms at the back of the sofa. Jack scrambled to a more dignified position against his corner, draping his blanket tightly around his shoulders, and she arranged hers lazily over her legs. Her tea was lukewarm and sour already, but she drank to the last drop. Its bitterness reminded her about everyone she had lost; she tried to remember their faces as much as she could, something they liked. That made them feel a bit less far away, a bit less gone.

By the time she was finished, she had no idea what the film was about. It mattered not. She was alive and in good health, so were her new friends and Fareeha, and the thought anchored her to the present.

Her moment of peace and calmness was interrupted by a sudden snore, and she blinked. Jack was a sleeping checkered ball against Reinhardt's side, the large man keeping him close. Warm. Safe.

She almost chuckled at the sight and took a picture of the scene to later blackmail Jack with it. Then, she noticed the German was smiling at her. Not with one of his goofy smiles, all teeth. Not boasting. It was warm and wanting. She had seen that look on his face many times at the canteen. Now she really laughed.

"Are you trying to woo me with that look, Lieutenant?" She whispered.

"Is it working?" His hand reached out to her hair. Her cheek. His touch was soft and gentle, almost reverent.

"Afraid you would need to do much better than that," Ana settled herself better under her blanket, and he kissed her.

The first thing that crossed her mind was that Jack was there, but he was still snoring softly. The next, that he was really warm and that he was an experienced kisser; he teased her but let her breathe at the same time.

It was nice, she thought. He was nice-but not worth risking their unit.

"I'm not another of your conquests, Lieutenant," she pushed him back, tucking her hair behind her ear. She knew the drill, it was quite common in the Army. Troops feeling lonely, homesick, tended to try find warmth among their colleagues. She had been there, too. And so had Jack, Gabe, and Sam. Oh, Sam. "You have a party full of ladies just at the end of the corridor."

"You don't understand," he chuckled softly, biting at his lip. "I am the conquested one."

"Ah, you sweet-talker," she rolled her eyes and turned towards the screen. "Find someone that's interested in your charms."

"Captain-"

His tone sounded all the alarms -_ it's not a joke anymore, it's not a joke anymore! _\- and her head snapped back to him. He gaped for an instant like a fish out of water, and then he plastered a grin on his face and shifted, making Jack groan in his sleep.

"I just, eh, wanted to see if I could call you Ana," he cleared his throat. "Like the others do. My apologies, Captain. Won't happen again."

The screen was showing a dark sequence that barely illuminated them, and yet she saw him wink at her. Ana pursed her mouth, unconvinced-but she could not read him properly in the darkness. His large hand brushed her shoulder for an instant, then it retreated to the back of the couch.

"Maybe watch another film? One from scratch this time?"

She curled into her blanket, feeling a bit colder now. She was still unconvinced, but her better judgement told her not to pursue it or it would end in tears. His, most likely.

Sometimes she wished to be different. Sometimes she hated her cold heart and wished it would thaw and be driven by passions like most people-but that was just not her. She only saw inconvenient relationships when any other woman would tell Jack his arse was really nice and would hold Gabriel and kiss that stupid mouth of his.

With Reinhardt things were not different; curling into his arms forever, being safe and warm while he made her laugh-it was a dream come true… Just not hers.

Sam's betrayal was too fresh on her over-rational mind- and she had got her squad killed once already. She would not be pushed into a position where she had to choose again between someone dear to her heart and the rest.

She could not.

-0000-

Finally, the film ended and Ana retreated to her quarters. Jack yawned loudly and sat down on the sofa, letting Reinhardt stretch his arms and back at last. He leaned over his knees and ran hand through his hair, undoing the ponytail completely. To say that the night did not go as he expected was an understatement, but he was the only one to blame there.

"I would never imagine you'd make for a decent couch," the super-soldier said at last, voice still thick with sleep. "Nor that you would vouch for a tactical retreat with Ana."

Yeah, well. Not that he had much of a choice.

"You didn't see her face," he ran a hand over his goatee. Oh, he had been rejected many times, slapped. Even punched! But he had never seen such a horrified expression before. As if the mere idea of engaging in something with him was the worst that could ever happen to her. Fuck.

"Don't take it personally. She's just not interested in anyone."

He turned his head to look at him, frowning slightly.

"She shut me down, too," Jack shrugged, and a shiver shook his whole frame for a moment. "She's just- She has a lot on her mind. I just moved on and learned to appreciate her as she is."

Reinhardt rubbed the back of his neck, pondering his words. He knew she was somewhat closed to the world, living on her own bubble that mostly included Fareeha only. She was elusive and reclusive, difficult to reach-but she could also be sweet and caring. Funny, snarky. And too hot in those tight pants for him to breathe properly when she angled just right.

He already appreciated her for what she was. He just wanted to appreciate her more, and more closely. Make her laugh like Fareeha did. Kiss her eyes, her neck, her... everything.

A long sigh wrecked through him. There were many other girls at the base, he knew a bunch if not most of them, some quite well- and all paled in comparison, just like an oasis full of water would not quench his thirst over a single dark beer.

"Oh man, you are really into her, aren't you," the soldier let go a long breath and tucked his legs under himself, effectively making himself a ball again. "There's this req I picked up before we met-from a rocket-launching facility at Gibraltar that needs defending."

"You're asking me to flee?" Reinhardt gritted his teeth. "I've never given up a fight, and this one would not be any different."

"I'm not asking," Jack's eyes twinkled. "I'm ordering you to get your things packed for tomorrow morning. With Torb out, you're their best chance to resist their attack. If I kill two birds with one stone, it's just because I'm a great deputy Commander."

"She will think-"

"That you're out on a mission. Which you will be," he leaned back on the sofa and sighed. "Now get going. Don't make me kick you out of here."

"As if you could. I'm still waiting for that assessment," he crossed his arms, stubborn, and Jack's eyebrows quirked in a strange, murderous way.

"Wilhelm, just get the fuck out to Gibraltar."


	5. The First Years, May 2049

Reinhardt enjoyed the Spanish sun falling on British soil -or whatever the political nightmare was there in Gibraltar. When he was not actively deployed or needed, he always found himself a spot where he could lie and just _be _for a while. It may seem strange, considering that the mainland was mostly occupied by Omnics, but he would take any little pleasures where he could find them. Besides, it was not like he had to be on his feet all day, nowadays.

His first year in Gibraltar had been the worst, with skirmishes and fights breaking out every few hours for months on end- but they had managed, defending the rocket-launching facility with all they had. Not bad for a Lieutenant and a bunch of soldiers and turrets, if he could say it so himself.

Either Gabriel or Jack called several times a week to have a verbal report of affairs, even if the watchpoint always sent a briefing at night. The rest of the team usually popped on the calls when not deployed. They always ended up talking about trivial things; music, films, how was everything, how and how much of a bastard he was for being tanned.

Every now and then, someone would visit from HQ to refuel, ask for medical assistance, or just to chill for a while-and the visits ended up being so frequent that the UN council decided to expropriate the facility and convert it into the Watchpoint Gibraltar Overwatch base.

That only made the Omnics angrier, but they kept pushing them back.

The proximity alarm bellowing brought Reinhardt back from his daydream. He got up from his lazy spot and rushed to the hangar, leaping through the fences and avoiding by chance the few plants that grew there.

Rosa, his petite red-haired assistant, was already by his armour checking that everything was in order.

"Is everything looking good today, my little flower?" He boomed, taking his tank-top off.

"Isn't it always?" She threw at him the upper part of his combat suit and rolled her eyes at the display of muscles-just like she always did. Reinhardt huffed when the turtle-neck black suit hugged his skin and put his sunglasses atop Rosa's magnificent head of hair.

"For safekeeping," he said, and the engineer stuck them in one of her pockets without mentioning his winking.

"Get in there, it's all ready."

They had done this hundreds of times; he jumped inside the armour and, between the two of them, the suit was closed and operational in the average two minutes ten seconds. Twenty seconds later, he was running in front of his unit.

The land around the rocket-launching base was completely barren due to the skirmishes and battles they had fought during the years, much like most of Spain. There used to be a large ridge of limestone at Gibraltar, but years of bombardments had leveled it to almost a mesa-which was good, since they had lots of visibility when Omnics attacked from any spot.

"How many bastions we have today, Captain?" Reinhardt asked. "I can only see a handful."

"That's all there is," the voice seemed to shrug. "Orders: Disable them and bring them back. We can always use the spare parts."

The members of his unit replied with different levels of enthusiasm and Reinhardt cackled, hands tightening on the rocket hammer. Ah, the tin cans would not see what was coming for them.

Soon the first shots started raining down. He deployed the barrier, which was the team's cue to get behind him. They knew the drill and they were good at it; Reinhardt brought them safely to strategically placed boulders where the soldiers took cover and would wait for the whole team to be in place.

Once the last soldier was deployed, he grinned inside the helmet and charged the Omnics. They opened fire at him, but their light rounds rebounded against his armour. Reinhardt slammed his arm and shoulder against a bastion, propelling it against others and taking them down as if they were bowling pins. Charge stopped and faithful hammer in hand, he slammed a couple right on the head-and that was all. His team had already neutralised the rest where they laid.

"Aww, you guys are too good at this already," he complained with a laugh. There was a time where he would take care of a handful robots by the time they destroyed one but, nowadays, they actually played along and hid so he could have his share of glory.

Of course, command disapproved, but was not that concerned as long as they would not play during the big battles.

Reinhardt looked around, trusting the visor on his helmet to reveal any possible threat, but he could not detect anything unusual. No heat forms, no short-waved electronic pulses. They were done.

Their return home was marked with jokes at the bastion's expense. One of the soldiers kicked the head clean off a bastion and threw around, and they ended playing ball under the unforgiving sun until the Commander, with a roar on the comms, called to tell them to stop screwing around already.

Reinhardt hauled the disabled Omnics, turning the armour's engine on in short bursts to make his life easier; the fuckers weighed a ton each, and he did not want to go back and fetch each of their arses individually in that heat.

At the end of the journey, his bad knee ached with each step. He did not give it much thought; it had trobbed under strain since it healed more than two years back, and the blasted sun cooking him alive in his armour was way more annoying. Bastions attacking at noon, _really _.

A strong gust of wind raised a cloud of dust that enveloped the team as they entered the base grounds; an aircraft hoovered over them, slowing down and landing at the other side of the building, just by the hangar. Reinhardt felt a smile creeping on him; he would recognize the roaring made-by-Torb engines anywhere.

Leaving the bastions piled inside their defences, he rushed to the landing path taking his helmet off on the way, and practically jumped inside the aircraft as the door opened.

"Gabriel!" He grabbed the unsuspecting Commander in a bear hug as he laughed. Ah, having visitors was the best thing ever.

"Put me down, you inglorious bastard," He chuckled, punching the armour's shoulder. "I've told you already, I'm not marrying you."

"Ah, you hurt me," he squeezed him enough to make him gasp for air. "I always thought we had something special."

"Glad to see you're still the same old silly," someone said from the back of the aircraft, and Reinhardt let the Commander go straightaway, blood frozen on his veins. Ana raised a hand as a greeting; she was every bit as beautiful, composed, and lovely as she had ever been. "Guess you were not expecting me."

It was not as if they had not spoken in those almost three years. Sometimes she joined the calls, made the odd joke or brought Fareeha with her -though the little cookie managed to sneak in a lot of times without her mother, funnily enough- but most of the time she would not pop by.

She wanted nothing with him, that much was clear. Nothing at all. But, while he respected her decision, he also missed her chuckles and her salty replies, her silences on the comm followed by scoldings, the way she always _knew_... and he had not been able to h elp himself. There were posters of the Strike Team around the base, the promotional ones the UN decided to use for recruitment purposes; he had taken a picture of Ana's to look at it when it ached to know she was the only one that would never come to visit.

Some people at the base had told him he was obsessed with her, but that was not true. When he enlisted in the Army, he found a purpose, a feeling of belonging. He liked doing other things, of course, but nothing made him feel as accomplished as being part of a team that could make the difference to many people.

And it was the same with women. Ah, he had liked many and he knew he would like many more, but all of them paled before Ana. Was it _love _? No. He loved a lot of people with passion and had no issues showing it or acting upon it, if they both felt inclined to. But it was different with Ana. She was special in ways he could not describe. Perhaps he also had a special kind of love only for her.

In any case, it did not matter. Not when she seemed to hate every word he said.

"Been a long time, Captain," he forced himself to smile and bow before her.

"You look like a baywatch with your hair and the tan," she raised an eyebrow, golden eyes piercing him. "Just missing the sunglasses."

He rubbed his head with the huge armoured hand. Did she meant a Baywatch star, just like Hasselhoff? Because the man was a legend, and it would have been great compliment if she had not meant it as a tease. Ah, damn it.

"Let's get inside before this heat completely melts your bird-brains," Gabriel rolled his eyes, pushing him to make his point across. Reinhardt put an arm around his neck and used him as the last resort to get away from the awkward situation.

She made her choice, and he would not get in her way.

"Did you bring me any _bündnerfleisch _? Cheese? Hope it's cheese."

"Do you ever think about anything that's not food, sex, or fighting?"

"Should I?"

After Reinhardt took his armour back to the hangar, he walked to the canteen where the Strike Team members were waiting. Gabriel and him chatted amicably over cold pale beers until the former let go a long sigh after discussing about the omnium just discovered in Australia.

"I need to get you back into the team, Goldylocks," the Strike Commander put down his mug. "You've done good here, but we need to win this war."

"I'm always up to hammer them where it hurts most," Reinhardt leaned on the counter and looked around with a bit of sadness; not that he minded coming back to Switzerland but, after more than two years, he considered Gibraltar his home. He had made some good friends there, and had got used to the chain of command and her bouncy curls. "So… where are you going after this?" He changed the topic and rubbed his scarred eyebrow absentmindedly. "Anything exciting? Do you need any assistance?"

Gabriel's shoulders fell as he let go a long sigh.

"We're going to The Hague. They want us to explain what Overwatch is, how we only kill baddies, yadda, yadda. Wanted to see how the works here are coming along before we report."

Reinhardt winced in sympathy and patted him on the back.

"Sure Commander Marquez will give you a great tour. She's the best person at explaining things around-very effective in all fields," he nodded, making Gabriel crack a smile.

"You sly dog," he said, grabbing his beer again. "I need to be careful with that stupid grin of yours or one day I'll ask you to fuck me too, geez."

"She's just my friend," he protested, though not very heartedly, and the Commander cackled.

"Yeah, you have lots of _friends _everywhere," he raised his glass to him, his dark eyes going towards Ana, glinting. She elbowed Gabriel under the ribs with a swift movement, making him double over and spill the beer over himself.

"Oops," she said, stirring her tea as if nothing had happened.

Reinhardt let go a big guwaff, but he sobered straight away upon noticing Ana's burning glare and rushed to hid behind his beer. It was always so funny to see Gabriel get owned for his big mouth that he had not been able to help himself.

"Totally worth it," Gabriel laughed and smacked him in the arm, defusing the situation yet again. "I'll go change now before the Commander gets a weird impression of me. You two, _behave _."

Ana snorted, not even sparing a look at Reinhardt, and the Strike Commander left them alone.

He was heading for the door when Commander Marquez entered the room. Gabriel bowed a bit and pointed at them as he rushed away, and she walked towards them rocking her fabulous black curls.

"Afternoon, Rein," she smiled, and he grinned, saluting back. "Saw you brought us back several bastions. Good boy. Ah, and you must be the famous Captain Amari from Overwatch. He won't shut up about you," she rolled her eyes, then looked at her from head to toe. Uh. That was dangerous, he knew. Like a cannon ready to shoot.

"And you are Commander Marquez, I take it?" Ana spared a look at her, eyes barely more than slits. "Reinhardt was just talking about your many, ah-skills," she raised an eyebrow and bit at her lower lip for a brief moment.

He wheezed at the implication, but the Commander paled in a heartbeat. She turned to look at him with such anger that he thought he would burst into flames.

"Marta, that's not what-"

The petite Commander kicked him in the shin with her military-grade steel-reinforced boots. He let go a very unmanly whimper, taking his weight from the leg straight away, and she grabbed his t-shirt to pull him forward. The seams creaked at the strain, and he leaned on the bar to double over while his leg recovered.

"Shut it or I'll aim higher. Actually, I totally should have aimed higher," she growled, the feral little thing.

"Listen, please?"

"That's how you treat the things you borrow?" Ana tsked, still much amused and acid, making the Commander turn towards her.

"Ah, _pobrecita, _now I understand," she fixed her curls, smiling like a predator. "You lost your chance. Why am I not surprised, you unfuckable bag of bitterness?"

"Please," she chuckled. "Are you a Commander or a street mug?"

"Five minutes!" Gabriel's voice echoed on the canteen, and Reinhardt had never been happier to see him. "I've been gone for five minutes!" At the door, he was hiding his face with a hand. "Commander, please spare my team and let's do the briefing without casualties."

She did not move, her fiery green eyes glaring at each of them in turns. Then, she huffed, and walked towards the Strike Commander.

Reinhardt leaned his arms on the bar and let his head hang. Whenever Marta got angry he ended doing guard duty at noon and he would roast in the armour for hours. During weeks. Not to say she would only bark and growl at him and totally not listen- all because Ana decided to… He could not even start to fathom why she would screw with the Commander unprovoked. Right, probably Marta was about to jump onto her throat but, still.

He turned his head to her just to discover she had gone like the little ghost she was.

Sigh.

-000-

The sun was still quite up in the sky when Ana got outside. Taunting the Commander had been a childish thing to do, but she had not been able to help herself. She was still pissed with Gabriel's comment when the Commander came moving her arse like she owned the place and treating Reinhardt as if he was her pet.

The German could be many things, but a lap dog was not one of them. What he was, though, was a bastard that had been plain ignoring her to her face. That had pissed her off even more.

Months had passed. Years, for fuck's sake, and he still would not look her in the eye.

She understood. It was awkward. It was with Jack too, at first, but he did not run away across half a continent. He did not stop talking to her, ignoring her as if they had never been friends. Actually, it was worse than that, because Reinhardt was extremely friendly with everyone but her. The team calls got so bad she decided to stay on the blind side of their webcam as the others spoke. Hidden, as if she was never there.

It was the only way he would keep on being his silly self.

Her fiddling fingers started braiding her hair over her shoulder. She was giving it too much thought again-she cared too much about it. Big mistake.

But she missed him.

And he was an idiot.

She would have visited along with the others, but it was clear she would not be welcome. Besides, he was happy at his new post. More than happy, she would say, until she fudged up with the Commander.

Ah, she should not have done that. It would have been fairer to take it all on Gabriel-he was the one that pushed her buttons, after all. Even on the bloody German himself.

Ana sat under the shadow of a large boulder. The facilities were in a sort of a rocky terrace surrounded by a wasteland. There were no plants, no trees, nothing but scorching sun, rocks, and bastion pieces laying around-too broken to be salvaged. It was hot indeed, but never as much as Egypt was, where words dried in her mouth before she could even say them.

Running away had been as silly as provoking the Commander, and sure Gabriel would laugh his arse off once he caught up with her. It was his kind of humour, after all-which was worrying. Maybe they were spending too much time together lately. She needed to have a laugh every now and then with an adult, and Jack was usually too caught up in the job to relax and joke.

People came and went through the same door she had used to get out, and her eyes went there every time she registered any movement. Nobody bothered with her even if they looked around, which was good since she did not want the company. The noise, however, was getting a bit annoying. She looked around- there was a buzzing like a huge bee, but it was not exactly that, either. The air itself seemed to vibrate. It was making her uneasy.

Ana got up and climbed to her improvised shadow source, hissing softly when it went from slightly warm to frying under her hands. She crouched immediately to provide a smaller target and looked around. The sky above was clear blue and the sea on the horizon did not look menacing. There were no cities nearby, no cars or lorries close that could humm that way.

She turned around. There was a mountain and something weird in the distance. It did not look like a bastion but nor did it have a humanoid figure. It was enormous, and it had-wait. Was it moving? No. _The mountain _was moving. Just-it was not a mountain, but an _enormous _boulder.

By the time she figured it, the alarm horns were bellowing. The defensive turrets deployed instantly with a mechanical sound and fired their red plasma -to no avail.

The boulder crashed into the highest part of the building and the very world trembled on impact. Ana held on by a hair to the rock on which she was perched and then jumped to the ground to stay away from the building.

Every window shattered as one, but the sound was barely audible over the groaning of the building collapsing on itself. In a heartbeat, she was inside a cloud of dust and she curled on the ground, covering her face as much as possible. She coughed, tears welling in her sniper-enhanced eyes. At her back, she could hear groans, cracks, and also yells and cries. The boulder sheltered her from the worst of the cloud, though, and she got up as soon she could see again.

There were people outside now, hands on their heads, looking at the disaster. The higher floors of the building-the tower with the big windows that looked like the control tower of an airport- was no more. It had collapsed both on itself and atop the right wing of the building.

It took her three breaths to run there. The first one let the horror sink in. The second made her realize her friends were there, with an unholy amount of other people. The third gave her the courage to move before there was another attack.

People poured out from virtually any open door, window, or crack on the wall, most of them covered in white dust and bleeding. The alarm kept bellowing through the surviving speakers, and she pushed her way inside a building she did not know, assisting where she could, helping others get up, and commanding them to get out and away from there.

She knew the drill well. The cries, the blood, the panic-it all washed over her as if it did not exist.

"Make way," she heard a familiar voice say, and then, the roar of an engine. She took another breath-one filled with relief- and made her way towards the German. Clad on his armour, he was lifting debris while other people rescued the trapped ones, assisted by a small red-haired girl covered in dust.

"Careful with the building," she said, noting the cracks on the walls around them. There was a staircase packed with debris that had fell from above, and they did not want to disturb it.

Reinhardt let the chunk in his hands fall to the ground and looked around, hope and dread altogether on his face. He pulled her in a hug the moment he spotted her, his forehead against hers.

"I'm so grateful," he mumbled. There was a relieved smile on his face, even if he seemed closer to tears than anything else.

Anger melted in Ana's chest, and she ran a hand through the golden mane at the back of his head just as she did to Fareeha when she was upset. It did not seem to have the desired effect though, because he closed his eyes for a second and put her down with a sigh.

"I'm sorry," he said, giving her his back, now. "I shouldn't have-ah, I'll keep on helping."

She stared at his back, head cocked. He was not ignoring her because he did not care, that much was obvious, now.

Ana pushed him as she would have done years back-it would not even make him stagger, but it should be enough for him to feel it. Reinhardt looked at her askance and she smiled enough to make his eye widen in surprise and confusion. There had to be something else going on in that scatterbrain of his, but it was not the place or time to ponder.

"Where's your helmet?"

"Ceiling is too low," he grabbed another slab from the ground and pushed it away. There was a pocket of air, and someone was curling on the ground completely covered in dust. "There's lots of good people missing. Would you help me?"

"I need to find Gabriel," she kneeled to help the curling person up. "We don't have much time. Another boulder may throw the whole building down."

"He would be upstairs with the Commander, at her office. I'm trying to clear a path."

"The boulder hit the tower. It collapsed. There may not be a path."

He stopped for a moment and looked at her, his mouth a thin line, and she could read his thoughts as clearly as if he had voiced them.

"Gabriel would never die of something like this. Super-soldier, remember?" She wished she was as confident about it as she sounded, and she wished she could say the same of the rest of the people of the base-his friends. "Sure he pushed the Commander away from harm, too. Is there an emergency exit or a secondary staircase we could use?"

"Ah, there may be," his face brightened slightly. Of course he had not thought about that- he was not the type to leave a burning building in the first place, let alone using the emergency exit. "There's a staircase outside, always wondered what was for."

"I'll go check. Put your helmet on, may need to call you on the comms. No buts," Ana raised a finger when he was about to complain. "Kneel if you must."

Ana rushed outside the building once she had borrowed a comm device and strapped it to her wrist. She had one, of course, and so did Gabriel, but they were in their aircraft with the rest of their combat gear.

The first thing she did was look around for more attackers, but the sky seemed clear and there was no buzzing that could alert her of an incoming projectile. The colossus-whatever it was- still loomed in the distance, even though the setting sun was making it difficult to see.

The stairs were surprisingly easy to find, though they were not completely unscathed. She went up several steps, tiptoed around some debris, and jumped to a window's ledge when an enormous pile of concrete and things impossible to identify blocked her way. She kicked the window frame to get it out of the way -the glass being long gone- and got inside the building again.

Water was pouring through the cracks, pooling at her feet and dripping down the lower floor. Those lights that were not in pieces were still on, allowing her to look around. A pile of rubble blocked half the corridor were she had landed, so there was just one way forward.

Ana hurried to the next room, calling in case someone could hear her. The first room had not seen any damage, but the next one had partially collapsed. Someone was trapped, not moving; a quick check told her she was dead, just like the one lying under the pillar.

She started calling every fifth step and then stop, wait, and listen, but all she could hear was the building groaning and water dripping and running. At some point, she could swear she could even hear Reinhardt messing with the rubble downstairs.

Thick electric mains cables had dropped from their hooks in the faux ceiling of the corridor where she was and, along with the dramatic emergency lights, it felt like she was stuck in one of those old scary movies about unpleasant extraterrestrials. The room to her right was a complete wreck, but she stopped nevertheless. There was a sign on the wall- the Commander's office.

Ana walked in, guts in a knot. Her mind knew what she was going to find, but she refused to believe it. Their more-than-stupid Strike Commander was not going to leave them before they won the war. Not going to happen. Not on her watch.

The place was bigger than she expected; it had been a real office with a door and a briefing room with chairs for eight people and a large screen. The table was in shambles under a chunk of ceiling. There was dust everywhere, pieces of faux ceiling, power cords, network cables, papers sprawled on the ground- but no one she could see. That was good and bad. She pushed the door to the office and found it closed. It would not budge, so she smashed a chair against it several times. The upper half of the door cracked at last and she peered inside, panting.

Her Commander was there, blocking the door like the dumbarse he was. He, and the wall that was on top of him that only let his legs show. She climbed up the broken door and jumped to the other side effortlessly, careful not to stand on anything unstable-or anyone.

"Gabriel," she called, crouching by his side and taking his pulse on the knee. It was strong, maybe a tad fast, but nothing unexpected considering the circumstances. He did not answer, and Ana looked underneath the concrete to understand what she had to deal with. His arms were firmly wrapped against his head, and that was all she could make. Good boy. Fractured arms and hands were definitely easier to fix than a leaking brain.

Gibraltar's Commander was to his right-or, at least, the hand she could see belonged to a woman. Her pulse was fluttering; she would not last much longer.

"Reinhardt, I need you up here," she said to the comm. "Found survivors, cannot move them alone."

"Moment, busy right now," he sounded strained, and she frowned. Sure, he was moving debris, but it should not be that difficult with the armour's help. "Come fast, I cannot hold it forever!"

Suddenly, the building rumbled under her feet. Her heart skipped a beat when she thought it was all going down _again _, but the trembling stopped as fast as it had started.

"For all that's sacred, don't wreck the place more than it already is," she growled, holding herself in the stuck half-door.

"Ceiling partially collapsed, but got it in time," he panted, a tingle of pride on his voice. "How do I reach you?"

"From the outside, up the emergency stairs," she sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears. The thought of people getting outside the building without any protection against possible attacks made her itch. She should be hiding, perched somewhere, being their eyes and picking their enemies before they struck. What good was she rescuing people when there was nobody taking care of their backs? "Who's taking command of the rescued and the people outside?"

"Captain Miller. Haven't found the deputy Commander yet."

She hoped the captain knew what they were doing-or that they had a good lieutenant with them.

"Need to hurry. What attacked us is out there and can do it again."

Reinhardt did not answer, and she was left again with the noise of water running and escaping through cracks and the odd electrical spark. Ana turned towards the pile of rubble that pinned the Commander and huffed. She could not help but change the weight from a leg to another. Restless. Impatient. She hated being vulnerable.

"Captain, where are you?" The German called at last, though the audio was rather poor. "I'm atop the stairs."

His armour was anything but silent, but that was not what gave him away. A series of hits on the outer wall made the building tremble slightly again, and she bit her mouth to contain a frustrated hiss. Ana climbed back to the meeting room before remembering she had sneaked in through a broken window-something Reinhardt would never be able to do.

He was covered in grey dust from head to toe now but for the visor on his helmet, which had been dutifully cleaned. The ceiling was not tall enough to fit his height, and so he walked slightly bent over, bursting through the door frames.

Ana used the few moments it took him to reach her position to look ahead on the corridor. There were other rooms-many others. There could be more people trapped.

"Did you find the Commanders?" He asked, towering over her all skewed, like a metallic Tower of Pisa.

She nodded and they rushed back to the Commander's office, with Reinhardt practically carving his way in through the faux walls. It was only when he stopped making a million noises that she heard it. _Another boulder _.

"We need to get out, now!" She hit his arm with a closed fist to give more emphasis to her words. "We're under attack again!"

"Not without our friends," Reinhardt grabbed the piece of concrete on top of Gabriel and pushed it away. There was a ripping sound of clothes and flesh, and a metallic rod dislodged from the Commander's shoulder. It made Ana sick despite her years on the field.

He started digging Gibraltar's Commander out as well, but the pile on top of her was otherworldly. Gabriel must have moved away, his enhanced reflexes fast enough to keep him mostly out of harm, but she-

"She won't make it anyway!" Ana wriggled herself in front of the Crusader, arms extended, and she could imagine his face clearly despite the helmet. "Rein-"

The boulder hit.

She covered her head with her arms on instinct, senses overwhelmed by the wobbling of the building and the mirad of sounds around her. Crunching. Cracking. Sliding. Something exploded several times-and the air felt like it was contracting and the ground under her feet receding. It was absurd-but then, the end of the world surely was.

Reinhardt picked her and Gabriel up and ran through the office's broken window as everything blew up, turning around in the last second and shielding them with his barrier.

She could not see the explosion, her face hidden by a large hand protecting her head, but she could well hear it- a massive shotgun followed by a high-pitched sound that would not go away. The shockwave catapulted them along with humongous pieces of wall and shard-like projectiles.

Ana kept her eyes closed shut as they flew, her lungs struggling for breath. She could feel the explosion's heat ball expanding in front of them, everything becoming uncomfortably hot during the seconds it took them to fly far away enough- and then, they plummeted down without reducing speed.

Gabriel's body practically fell over her, squeezing her further against the crone of the amour's arm. She held him tight just before the Crusader crash-landed on his feet. All her vertebrae complained at the same time, the muscles on her back straining, her fingernails digging in his friend's body. They rebounded forwards, tilted dangerously, and crashed again. This time it was less painful, yet she held to Gabriel and the Crusader for dear life, a snarl on her face as they slid through the ground, soil and rocks raining over their heads as they skidded across the ground.

It felt like forever, but finally they stopped. Reinhardt fell to his side straight away, taking both of them with him. When Ana opened her eyes, she realized that there was a lot of light coming from behind them -where the building used to be, probably- and that she hated travelling on Reinhardt's armour.

"This shit only happen to me when you are around," she hit him with a fisted hand. Ears still ringing, she slid down, every single muscle burning and complaining. What her fingers touched was not soil, but sand; the sea was a black mass in front of them. "You're a magnet for trouble."

His large right hand left Gabriel on the ground, and she winced in sympathy as the Commander rolled from his side to his back. He needed evac, and he needed it as fast as possible.

"Can you call the Swiss base?" She asked Reinhardt by standing practically on top of his helmet. She waited for him to say something, but he never did. Or maybe he did and she could not hear him. He hit the helmet with his hand a couple of times and ended up removing it completely. He was sweating, hair sticking to his face and neck as if he had just stepped out of the shower.

"-cooking alive in here," she read his lips, his eyes wrinkling between a smile and a wince. The armour had some dents here and there, but it was not battered for once. Ana could only suppose that the barrier had protected them from the worst of the explosion, even if it could not do anything about the flying debris.

"Can you hear me?" She asked, hoping she was not yelling, and he frowned in confusion. Fantastic. Ana laughed at the absurdity of the situation and held herself against his side. It hurt to shake, but she could not help herself. Well. At least they were alive.

He shifted, slowly getting to his elbows then up to a sitting position, and the next she knew there was a large hand cuddling her. He was looking at her from above, saying something she did not understand. It did not matter, since worry was clear on his eyes.

"I'm fine," she patted the armour. "As good as I can be after an explosion and a flight with a crazy German in an armour, anyway. Gabriel's what worries me, I wish you could hear me," she sighed and got on her knees, feeling a pang on her right calf-one of the million scratches and cuts from the flying debris.

She cupped the Strike Commander's uninjured cheek with a hand as she took his pulse. Fast, but strong. Blessed super-soldiers. She could check his arms, feel for the more-than-likely fractures, but she ran a hand through his curly hair instead. The ride must have been hell for him, and what he really needed now was to remain immobile and stabilized. She could not give him that, though. Not yet, at least. There did not seem to be bastions around yet, nor any Omnic airship. It was strange, maybe they just wanted to destroy the site? In any case, the best they could do was go back to the others, seek survivors, pile up and hope someone was already coming for them.

Ana turned to the Crusader to explain her plan and saw him looking at the burning ruins with a blank face- not good for someone that was so expressive. She pushed him slightly and he turned. Their eyes met for a moment, and he reached out for his helmet and put it on straight away. It was ridiculous to make gestures at a full armour when she could not hear anything and could not see his face for feedback, but he ended up nodding and pointing ahead of them.

She got up and went to check that it was safe while he scooped Gabriel up. She felt extremely vulnerable without her rifle but, at least, she was lighter and could walk unnoticed. The night was quite dark; fire cast long shadows out of boulders and stones, and she missed her hearing greatly. Her ears ached, but the noise was worse because it distracted her- and that could get them killed.

They were not as far as she had imagined, at least, and soon she found some survivors digging a hole on the ground-a kind of trench, she imagined. Her heart sank as she counted them; there were a handful, plus two that were lying down with horrible burns.

-000-

Ana was a silhouette ahead of them, just lit by the building's flames. Asking her to scout ahead had been impulsive but, the moment Reinhardt looked at the burning ruins, all he saw were memories of his life there, his friends. Rosa. His unit. Marta and her curls, her strong personality, her hands on him and then poking out the rubble— and it was like someone had tied his guts to a stick and twisted it.

The Captain's dear face had somewhat broken the spell but, with her superpowers, she would have read through him in an instant. Just thinking that she may ask what was on his mind made him hide under his helmet.

It was shameful, but he could not deal with that and Ana at the same time.

Reinhardt scooped the Strike Commander from the ground, and the pain as he bent distracted his mind. Landing had been hard on his joints, his bad knee particularly, and it was extremely unhappy at any kind of strain. He knew landing was going to be shit if he could not break the fall on impact, but his passengers -his principal concern- were alive, so everything else was secondary.

Besides, he was proud of his amazing job at skidding up to the beach considering he never paid much attention to his landing lessons at the Crusaders.

He limped forwards, keeping Ana in his sights. She should be safe ahead of him; his helmet let him see quite well in the dark and there were no bastions in sight—Ah, if only they would come and fight, the cowards. They were tired of losing, apparently, and dishonourable enough to target the rocket fuel tanks. It made his blood boil, and he had to make an effort not to squish Gabriel. He had discussed the fuel time and again with those in command, but they always thought the turrets, the plasma shield, and the troops were enough to keep the base safe. Unfortunately for them, the Omnics were more clever than they gave them credit for.

Ana turned around with a sudden movement, and someone appeared behind her. Reinhardt could not see who or what it was so he charged in, ready to deploy the barrier and punch any Omnic to the moon. As he got closer, he saw her and a soldier gesticulate and walk towards some rocks. Ah. There was nothing to worry about, then. Damn. He really wanted to have a go at some of those Omnic bastards.

There were other people around, he noticed, cutting the engine to stop himself. Pain shot up his legs all the way up to his back and he grunted, struggling to keep balance.

"Your knee again?" He heard a voice say. Dulled and low, but it was an improvement over just hearing ringing bells. Reinhardt turned around to face Sara, from his unit. "So glad to see you, big guy."

Luca, the chubby girl from the kitchen with the precious smile, ran towards him and hugged one of his arms while crying her eyes out. The scrawny new engineer, Phil, covered in dust and soot, eyes terrified, was crouching on the ground.

"Where's everyone?" Reinhardt asked, looking around, but the only heat clusters his helmet could detect were around him already.

"They were too close," Sara said, facing the flames as if she could put them out with a glare. "It's just us, Julian and Rich there," she pointed ahead where the two men were digging a trench of some sorts. "And two more too fucked up to be recognized, there."

Reinhardt had to put all his will into not making fists with his hands and squeeze Gabriel. A handful. That was all that was left. He had helped out dozens, there were at least fifty outside when he went to help Ana. Friends, colleagues, team, _home. _

Again.

He could not breathe out of pure rage and grief. There was no glory in those deaths- in any death.

Something hit him from behind and he turned around straight away, activating the barrier. Ana jumped backward, hands raised in a peace gesture, and he put the shield down with a long breath. It was lucky he was carrying the Commander, because his first instinct had been turning around and punch instead of defend. Shit.

She said something-something too low for him to hear and too fast to read on her lips, but he did not care. All he wanted was to drop Gabriel somewhere safe and go punch something. Destroy something, even if he had to make do with the rocks around.

Ana followed him as he limped towards the two people lying on the ground. They were badly burned, too much for him to tell who they were-even if he wanted to try, which he did not.

He wanted to take the helmet off and run a hand across his face, but it was not a good idea. The armour filtered the air somewhat, and he did not want to even think about what smells should be in the area.

She helped him get Gabriel on the ground and knocked at the chest plate. She was frowning in concern, but said nothing-just showed him the datapad she was holding.

"You listening now? Good," she said when he nodded. "Torb just told me something you would want to hear."

The engineer seemed absorbed in typing something at high speed, not really looking at the screen anymore until he heard his name.

"Hey, big oaf," he looked up. "Taking care of Ana and Reyes?" The datapad sounded far away, muffled, but he caught his friend's worried tone anyway.

"Trying to," Reinhardt said, though it felt like a lie. "The Captain said you've got something? Better be something I can fight and slam down."

"She described what happened-I helped design an Omnic that could do that. Huge. Skyscraper kind of huge."

"Sounds like fun," he took a long breath through the nose. "Any idea where it can be?"

"Likely to be around a hundred miles from your location, but Ana said you are waiting evac."

"What I meant was, is there an easy way to track it? Was it built at a known omnium?"

"Leave that to me, I may also have an ace on my sleeve to fuck them up for a while," Torbjörn raised an eyebrow. "You get them-"

Something hit him again and he could have sworn, but this time it was a round of projectiles. Reinhardt pushed the datapad to Ana and scrambled up, looking around. A smile curved his lips; ugly, broken, and blood-thirsty.

"So, they've come after all," he said, if to noone in particular. "Let's fight, then!"

The guys digging the trench did not seem to have any weapons on them, and came running to their position, pushing the cook and the engineer with them. There was no safe place. Not really-just some rocks they could use to hide. The same he and his team had used in the morning to get cover for a while.

Reinhardt limped there, bullets scattering around him, and pushed the rocks down with the help of the engine, making them fall to the ground horizontally. They were not a great place to attack now, but the survivors could now lay low behind them; that would be better than nothing.

Ana scurried towards the rocks with the others, but crouched at his feet and used him as an improvised barrier.

"How many are there?"

"Ten. Fifteen maybe," he looked again. Some were too close together and could not distinguish their signatures.

"I can't hear you, moron," she hit his leg with a small fist. "How many?"

"Just a little patrol to wipe survivors, I guess," he continued, gesturing the number to her. "Sara!"

The soldier, who had crouched nearby and was probably waiting to have the enemy on her sights, ran towards them.

"They're still far, but their bullets are lightweight, travel long-they can kill us easily without trying."

Human technology was good enough to spot Omnics at quite the distance and, even if they could hide their heat signature, they were not exactly silent either. So what they did was fire some volleys from afar every now and then in the hope of pick off unsuspecting soldiers, engineers or even civilians.

"Don't worry. Stay hidden, I don't need a rocket hammer to screw them up," he smacked his fist into his other hand, wishing he could actually crackle his real knuckles.

Ana pulled at Sara's arm, then pointed at her rifle.

"Do we have any more weapons?"

"Just my gun," she picked it up from the holdster at her back and showed it to Ana. "Wait a moment. Are you Captain Amari? From Overwatch? Oh my gosh, he wouldn't shut up about you," Sara gestured the words the best she could, making Ana snort. Then, she presented her the rifle. "You'll give it better use than I could ever do."

Several bullets rebounded on the armour, and Reinhardt turned around. They should fight far from their injured, give them a chance. It would reach a point where the bastions would use heavier rounds and a rock would not be enough protection for a handful of people.

"We should go. Take cover, keep the others safe," Ana patted Sara on the arm, and she saluted formally. Figures. He never knew she had fans on his base-apart from himself, that is.

Reinhardt and Ana moved forwards, but it did not take him many steps to stop; the knee was killing him with each step. When it looked like the Captain was about to say something, he grabbed her and charged towards the last pile of rocks standing; the best spot he could see for her to hide.

"Don't charge with me again, you-" she gritted her teeth and hit the armour with the butt of the rifle while bullets flew around them.

Reinhardt landed behind the rocks with a grunt, and had to lean on them to keep himself straight.

"You ok?"

"I've got this."

Ana looked unimpressed even considering she could not hear him. After a moment, she pursed her lips, looked towards the horizon, and let go a long breath.

"Take the helmet off."

He hesitated but, in the end, it was the only way they could maintain a conversation. The hot humid weather glued cinders and dust still floating in the air to his skin, but the smell of burning fuel and plastic was worse. Revolting. Vile.

"Shield me and I'll take care of the bastions," she said, and it took his brain a moment to switch contexts from his overloaded senses to her words.

"No," he snapped, hands tightening over the armour's controls. "I'm gonna fight those bastards myself, on my honour. If there's ever been a time for justice, that's now."

"Don't be an idiot, you are injured and there's no need to-"

"_ They need to pay _," he emphasized every word, but there was no confusion on her face, just disapproval. She did not understand. He would not back off from a fight, let alone if he had a score to settle- and he swore on his Crusader vows he would avenge his fallen friends. "And they will, whether you have my back or not."

Putting the helmet on again, he took the steps to get out behind the rock and then charged the bastions.

The Omnics' heads were small targets, but one crunched satisfactory under his large armoured fingers. His momentum pulled the tin can off its feet and he threw it up against three others with a swift turn. That probably would not stop them, but it would cause confusion and stop the rain of bullets; his improved armour could deal with the hits better-yet he was not invulnerable.

Reinhardt skidded with his left leg, turning and slowing down before ungearing the engine. The landing was mostly a tumble down, but he deployed the barrier as he tried to regain his footing. Ah, he was really missing his hammer now, but he just needed to get himself in the right position to bowl them like pins. The barrier cracked for the second time that day as the bastions switched to heavier rounds, but one of the tin cans fell to the ground not to move again.

Ana.

Sara's rifle was not made for a sniper, yet the Captain was able to kill a bastion with a handful of frozen peas, if circumstances required it.

He charged again, the heavier rounds lodging in the armour's plate, and braced for impact. Two, three, four bastions flew away-and he picked one transforming half-way through by the neck and smashed it against the ground, dragging it several feet until the head tumbled away from its body. A pulse of bullets hit his side and he groaned, bringing the engine to a halt so he could cover himself. He fell to his knees with a grimace but, at least, he had given the barrier enough time to recover.

"Come here, you bloody things!" He taunted them, hoping that would make them target him instead of the rock where Ana was hiding. "Come here and fight me toe to toe!"

The head of one of them exploded in sparks just as he was pushing himself up. He was up on one knee when a hail of gunfire came from his right side again, lodging on his helmet and shoulder pad, grazing his neck. He covered his face with his free arm and geared the engine.

Bad idea. Only idea.

He dashed forwards kneeling as he was and used the momentum to put all his weight on his left leg and jump, falling on top of the bastion flanking him. His hands held together made an improvised hammer that crunched the bastion's head down to its shoulders, and he fell back to the ground with the crumbling robot.

His bad knee gave away with spectacular fireworks as he landed, the pain only surpassed by him falling right on it. He squeezed his eyes and spewed every curse he knew in German and then some more in English. The world stopped existing for an instant, turned into a screaming white haze-bones grinding one against another, muscles cramping, things moving where they should not- but slowly, his brain made sense of his reality and deployed the barrier again.

The shooting had stopped, he noticed. Ana was out of her hiding place, the rifle in her hands, still looking around for enemies. There were none he could see, yet he was not in a position to see much. A flick of his hand put the barrier down, and he looked at the pieces of the bastion he just destroyed. Instead of feeling better, he was just disappointed.

The Captain stopped by his side and looked down at him, the rifle on her shoulder now. There was no expression on her face, no sign that would tell what she was thinking-but all of her exuded tight anger and disapproval.

"We should go back," she said at last.

That was easier said than done, because moving an inch was agony. Yet, he had chosen this path, and he would walk it. Or, at least, limp it.

Each of the armour's joints that locked them in place in case they were damaged and, even if that would not make it less painful, at least the leg would not buckle. He bent forward as much as he could and started feeling around the sides for a bolt, but the large armoured fingers were not exactly nimble.

Ana crouched by his side with a wince and looked at what he was doing. In a moment, she reached out for something he could not see and his leg straightened without warning.

He could have _killed _someone right there.

The Swiss base's aircraft personnel outnumbered them three to one. They secured the perimeter, checked for survivors, and helped them inside. There was not enough cargo space to recover the burned remains scattered around the building and, for the sake of their injured, they decided to let them rest there-for now.

Reinhardt had just collapsed in the aircraft's interior ground by the door the moment he made it there, and had not moved since. Someone had secured him against the fuselage with large belts that usually held cargo, but he did not mind. He had been able to come back to the other survivors charging, but had had to limp his way inside-and it had been exhausting.

Yet, it could have been worse. Gabriel was resting in a drug-induced sleep, just like the other two badly-injured people they carried. His arms were cast in tightening bandages-well, not just his arms. Practically half of him was, to keep the broken shoulder blade from moving. The least worrying injuries were the two gashes on his cheek, closed by plastic stitches.

Sara had sat down by his side for a while, holding on to him to brave the turbulences. Neither of them had much to say as the aircraft flew away from the Iberian peninsula, but the company was welcome as their new reality started to sink in. Not that Reinhardt had not accepted that his base and his colleagues were gone, but being at the site felt different. As if it was not over yet. Now, his mind navigated a haze of faces he would not see again. He hated it, but did not have energy left to fight both the pain and his memories at the same time.

When the doctors finished patching up Ana, she ran a hand at her hair, eyes moving to all the injured on the ship. While her face was relaxed now her injuries were soothed, there still was a crease on her brow. She had not spoken to him since they fought the bastions, and he wondered if she ever would. What happened while he had been pushing the debris away must had been his imagination, and she was just interacting with him due to the circumstances. Hah. He just had to see the contempt with which she looked at him.

He bit his tongue and forced himself to enumerate the pieces of his armour. Thinking about Ana was like changing one demon for another.

Sometime later, two doctors appeared in his field of view looking tired but determined.

"Ready to cooperate, now?" One of them cocked his head. "We're done with the rest."

He made a face. Even Sara was resting now on the other side of the aircraft, so he was indeed the last one. He was not looking forward to moving his leg even an inch, but it would be good to get out the cooking machine for a while, stretch. Take a shower.

He took off one of the belts that anchored him to the aircraft and the doctors pushed him to the side so he did not have his back against the wall. Then, he started unfastening the armour. He missed Rosa's tiny fast fingers, her curls tickling his nose when she busied herself on the main power supply and he was not wearing his helmet. She never had put up with his bullshit, and he loved her for that.

A shaky sigh left him. The chest plate opened at the umpteenth try and he got his arms out at last. The doctors were getting a bit impatient with the time it was taking him to get ready, and he hurried to open up the rest up to his hips. To wriggle himself out, he put his hands on the ground, anchored himself, and pulled.

It took all his self-control to choke the pain on his throat as he fell back on his elbows, the world swirling in a white haze; he would not take the bad leg's boot from the anchors without yanking at the bones and ligaments in every direction possible-which he had just done, if just not enough to free himself. _Holy fucking shit_, did it hurt.

A couple of hands held him as he breathed hard, trying to ride the pain and control his breathing again; it was one of the doctors.

"We could try with a nerve-blocker shot, but you'll pee yourself if use it in your lower back," he said, finished the sentence whispering in his ear. Reinhardt did not know if he was more disgusted or horrified.

"I'll manage, my friend," he swallowed, running a hand over his face. Now that he knew what to expect, he took a couple of breaths, held himself on the hips of the armour- and someone pulled at his hair.

"Wait. Give me that," Ana said from behind, releasing him. "My hand is small. I think it'll will fit to administer it locally."

She popped into his range of vision with a small syringe on her hand and exchanged a look with him. Her face was serious; not a ghost of a smile or a twinkle in the eye.

She made her way under his right arm, lying half on the ground and half on his armour. Her hand reached his hip and then his inner thigh, leaving a trail of fire on its wake despite his trousers. She stretched and he held her as he could, trying to support her efforts and distract himself. Her body was warm against his side, her elbow practically at his crotch as her arm wiggled forward. It would have been a dream scenario if it_ did not fucking hurt so much _every time she jarred his leg.

"Stay still, damn it!"

He was trying. He really was.

"Got it."

The wave of relief almost knocked him down completely.

"Thank you," he gasped, squeezing her a bit against his side. As the pain dulled to almost nothing, different aches appeared-The other leg from the knee down to the ankle. His hips, his lower back. Landing had been rough on him, indeed.

Ana pulled her arm out and sat on the ground by his side, waiting in silence as he wriggled out of the armour.

The youngest doctor cut Reinhardt's trousers from the end of the boot up to the middle of his thigh and the oldest one poked here and there, a frown on his face. It did not hurt, but it was both gross and fascinating to see things moving and whatnots despite the swelling and the bruising.

"Did you fall from far?" The doctor doing the poking asked, reaching for the boot and opening it up a bit. His face was a compendium of frowns and lines as he wrapped his knee in a bag of cold gel.

"Probably."

Reinhardt could feel the Captain's reproaching eyes as they cut the boot shank and packed the shin and the ankle as well. Then, they applied a tightening bandage from the thigh down to his foot to restrain his movement.

"I hope there's no need to say this, but don't move," the eldest of the doctors snorted, tying him as well to the fuselage, just beside the armour. "You'll need quite the surgery to walk again."

His left leg did not seem to be in a terrible condition, at least not compared with the mess which was the other leg, yet the doctors wrapped it up in a similar fashion. By the time they were done, Ana was right-on glowering.

"If you have anything to say, Captain, say it," he let go his breath. Now the worst of the pain was gone he could not believe how tired he was. He may be able to snooze for the rest of the journey if he could ensure nobody was going to set him on fire.

"I should have shoot you instead of those bastions," she said curtly, arms crossed. "I understand you wanted retribution, but to fight like this?"

He would have fought like that much more had the leg not given way, but something told him she did not want to hear that. But, wait a moment. Did she just say-?

"You understand?" He asked slowly, with a hint of sarcasm on his voice.

"Been there too, you know," the Captain looked down, pursed her lips. Her night-dark hair was matted with dust, and she was making a braid out of it. "But you left before we could discuss it."

"Because you clearly disapproved, and we didn't have time-"

"What are you, ten?" She snapped. There it was, even more disapproval, but suddenly her shoulders sank and her head bent. "Gabriel is only alive because of the super-soldier serum, and you-you went and charged to get yourself killed. Did you want me to cheer at you?"

A thick silence descended over them for a moment, and Reinhardt rubbed his left thigh absentmindedly. She was being overly dramatic about it. True, he was not at his best. True, he would have not escaped unscathed but, as long as the engine was operative, he would have eventually smashed them all.

But that was not the important point. The important point was that she cared. Maybe not in a straightforward way, but… Ok, maybe _cared _was too big a word. Maybe she was not as indifferent as he thought? Well, she was a decent human being; she would not be indifferent to people dying in front of her.

But the way she had said it…

No, it could not be. He was overthinking it _again _.

"I don't seem to die easily," he cracked a sad half-smile. "Sorry if that's a disappointment."

Ana's elbow lodged under his ribs in a split a second, making him grunt and double over slightly. Then, she got up like the little feral cat she was, and was gone before he could say anything else.

Reinhardt closed his eyes and leant his head on the fuselage. Going back into the Strike Team was going to be hell.


	6. The First Years, May 2049 (8h later)

After the landing, Ana went directly to her rooms. She took a sleeping pill, something reserved for shit days after which she really needed to get comatose and rest, and woke up six hours later. She was stiff and achy all over, so she dressed up and walked towards Med bay for a check-up. The landing had left her with several strained muscles, mostly in her back, but they had given her a load of painkillers and muscle relaxants, and a localized shot of nanites. In two or three days she should be good as new.

Her ears were still ringing softly despite the first-aid she received on the aircraft, and the doctor examined her yet again. The tears in the eardrums had been sealed, but they still presented micro ruptures. The ringing may or may not disappear once she healed, but there was nothing they could do until then.

As long as it did not impair her ability to concentrate and shoot, she was not particularly worried- moreover, she had much more important things in mind, she thought, pushing the door of the nursery.

"Laddies and lassies, we have a visitor! Say hi to Captain Ana, come on!" Nana smiled, waving.

The noise was a small blessing that muffled the cries of several infants and kids waving and cheering her. She did not know what stories Nana had told the kids, but they were always extremely happy to see her and she had no idea- oh. Several of the kids had a book on their lap with photos and pictures of Overwatch's heroes.

Fareeha jumped to her arms and Ana squeezed her, kissing her dark hair. She was so pretty, such a darling-it melted her in a way she could not describe. Every horror she endured, everything she suffered, it was all worth it because it was for Fareeha.

"Aha! I knew you'd come by, eventually," Torbjörn's gruff voice sounded behind her. "We were waiting for you. I am going to bring your little lady for a very, _very _, quick visit to Reinhardt because I promised, right, peach?"

"Yes!" She squeaked.

Oh. Oh, _damn _.

"Sure this is a good idea?" Ana frowned, not looking forward to it at all, really. She just wanted to have some time with Fareeha- but her daughter would insist. She knew it. And she was not in the mood to argue with her when all she wanted was to spend some time together. "He may not be well yet for little visitors."

"That's something we need to talk about," the engineer sat down on the ground. "Council, now."

Ana bit her tongue at his friend's serious face, and sat down besides Fareeha, making a little circle of three people. This council thing was quite new to her, but it was something Nana had been training the kids to do when they had to discuss something or break news to them- and it seemed to be working well, from what she said.

"Who wants to go visit Reinhardt?"

A little hand shot up. Torbjörn raised his hand as well and smiled smugly at Ana. She pursed her lips; as expected, she had lost the first round already.

"That's decided then. Rules: number one, we need to be very quiet, because he is at Med bay."

"He ill?" Fareeha whispered, brown eyes huge.

"He got hurt yesterd-" He was interrupted by a little gasp, and fixed his moustaches. "It was a dragon, right Ana? A terrible one. Huge!"

"A… dragon," she scratched the fabric of her trousers, unsure if she should encourage Fareeha's imagination that way. And yet, they could not tell her the Omnics had blown up a building full of people, could they? "Yes, it was a horrible creature."

"You saw it, mom?" Fareeha gaped at her in admiration, and she caressed her dark hair. "Reinhardt saved you?"

Ana looked at the ground for a moment, feeling a pang of anger returning to her. She would have punched him unconscious when she saw his injuries. The idiot. Oh, she understood the need to vent his anger and grief on something, but rushing to combat with his injuries _just to make them worse _was the peak of idiocy.

It reminded her when Jack threw himself over a grenade that fell in the middle of the group, the stupid son of a bitch. Or that time Gabriel jumped off a cliff with with a bastion because he had run out of bullets. Oh, and there was Torb, getting himself run over by a truck so he could get into it more easily and hack it down.

Argh.

"Ana?"

She rubbed her eyes with a hand for a moment.

"Sorry, got sidetracked. Go on."

"Rule number two: he may not be feeling great, so we will say hi and then leave without complaining if he is unwell."

Her daughter's little face scrunched in disappointment, but she nodded.

"Oh! The book!" Fareeha almost jumped up. "I promised him!"

"Fine, bring it. But show it to him only if he's ok with it."

Fareeha ran to recover her book, making Torbjörn crack a smile. Ana was amazed at how good the gruff engineer was with kids, but then, he had at least a couple, did he not? She did not know a whole lot about his life other than his family was in Sweden. When he joined Overwatch, and after making sure they all understood he did it to shut down the omniums building weapons based on his blueprints, Torb secluded himself into the engineering bay and barely got out. She still remembered their first mission as a team, where he would just not talk to anybody.

And they said Ana was the antisocial, gruff one- but then, everyone had their scars. He seemed happier talking to Ana than humouring the guys, though, so it was quite the surprise when he and Reinhardt became such good friends. But it was good; Reinhardt needed people around and Torbjörn could use someone that distracted him from himself.

"Sooo, how're things?" He sighed, tapping his fingers on his knee. "And I don't mean what happened yesterday- well, I do. But I'm not concerned about the building business or the Omnics."

"You're very persistent."

"You're my friend. He's my friend," he shrugged. "I don't like to see you moping."

"I don't mope," she frowned. "Let alone because of an idio-"

"Ah, cut it. You miss him," the engineer made a gesture with his hand. "And he misses you. Do I need to write it up in neon letters? Cause I totally can."

He what? Yeah, maybe when he was not trolling her about his death.

Fareeha came back to them, saving her from her indiscreet friend but dropping her in a different patch of deep water.

"Look at this, mama!" She said, opening the book and showing Ana a picture of Reinhardt in his old gryphon-like armour. "He's a knight! Did you know that?"

Torbjörn looked at Ana, an eyebrow raised and a little smile on his lips, and then got up.

"Ah, let's get going already."

The double doors of the Med bay common area opened up when they got close enough. The room had faux walls to separate beds, much in the same way a critical unit in real a hospital would. Gabriel would be in on of these, close to the nurses and the doctors all the time-at least until he woke up of his own accord. To their right there was a line of doors; individual rooms for those injured that were not well enough to go to their own lodgings.

There was only one room with a bed big enough to hold a mountain, and they were not disappointed; it had the German's name on it. Torbjörn opened up, heading their little company. He turned around and put a finger on his lips - Reinhardt was very quiet on the bed, an arm over his face. Sleeping, probably.

The engineer stopped on his tracks when he was halfway through, cocked his head, and then walked forwards again. Ana raised her eyebrows when he grabbed a glass and clanked it against the bed frame; bed manners at their finest.

"Oi, docs treating you bad?"

"Torb, my friend," a smile touched the German's cracked voice. He rubbed his face for a moment and offered him a hand, that he squeezed. "No, it's just-ah…"

"You need beer. I get it," he chuckled and moved aside. "Got you something better for now, if you can handle it."

Reinhardt rose on his elbows a bit and a grin split his face in an instant, making the girl squeal. Oh yes, that was the cue she had been waiting for to stop being all formal and run towards him, arms up. He grabbed Fareeha effortlessly and dropped her in his lap, book and all.

He looked quite terrible by his standards, with the golden hair all messy and his eyes puffy and sunken under dark rings, but Fareeha did not seem to mind it at all.

Ana took a couple of steps forward and he glanced at her like a huge sad teddy bear before looking down to the girl again.

"Ah, what you have in there?" He coughed a bit, trying to clear his throat. "A book?"

"_ The _book!"

"Show me!"

While Fareeha set the book on his lap and found whatever they wanted him to see, Torbjörn grabbed the medical notes at the foot of the bed.

"Shattered tibia, displaced tibial plateau fracture, patellar tendon tear, meniscus tear, and I won't keep on reading the other twenty things. It should just say you're screwed for a while."

He raised the sheet over his legs to reveal a white plastic brace from half his right thigh to down the calf. It was not all closed up, probably because of the swelling and bruising that reached down to the ankle. Fareeha gasped and hid her mouth behind her hands upon seeing the hardware popping up his leg. Bolts, plaques, and an stapled incision ran all the length of the knee, and more bolts propped from the shin. Ana snatched the sheet from the engineer's hand and put it back before smacking him in the head.

"Really."

"Well, the dragon had really nasty teeth, what can I say."

Ana took the medical notes from the engineer's hand and looked for the outcome of the surgery. The hairline fractures on the left leg should make a good recovery in days with the nanos, but the complete replacement of the right knee and the reconstruction of the right tibia and fibula were marked as guarded prognosis. With the amount of damage described on the notes, it was a miracle that none of the bone shards had pierced out his leg during the fight.

Well. At least he had not wrecked his back. Nanites would sure help the recovery time, thought they could not inject him any more nerve blockers if they wanted them to do their job.

"If only-" She stopped talking, frozen at the tears rolling down Reinhardt's cheeks despite his smile.

Fareeha looked up when they dropped on her head, and he chuckled and sobbed at the same time, causing an earthquake on his lap.

"Fare-"

"It's ok," Torb grabbed Ana's arm, restraining her at his side. "It's the painkillers."

Her brain short-circuited at the information and, for a moment, she could only stare at Fareeha rubbing Reinhardt's cheeks with a sleeve.

"What did you just say?" Ana managed to say while her daughter tried to wipe away Reinhardt's scar without much luck.

"Painkillers. Most turn him into a sappy pupper. Yes," he continued when she stared at him, "he's high in a bad way. "

"I'm afraid to ask how _you _gained this information."

"Ah, we had some beers the day we met, when he cracked his skull."

She was about to wonder out loud if the doctors had not read his medical records, but then she remembered they were at war; they did not have a stable supply of drugs to begin with, and it was a miracle they have any nanites available.

"Mama?" Fareeha reached out for her to come around. She looked unsure about what to do and Ana could not blame her; she felt the same. "Is this a drawing like yours?"

The smile he tried to maintain quivered as he covered half his face with a large hand, and Ana bit her lip, expecting a meltdown- but he actually laughed. It was a racked sound that shook his shoulders much like weeping would.

"A drawing," he said in the end, turning the hand over his eye into a claw. "I'd like that."

Ana grabbed his hand and pulled it away -the last he needed was to hurt himself- and he did not put any resistance. His fingers closed on hers and he looked up, confused.

"Captain?"

"Now you noticed?"

His expression lightened up just to wither the next moment. He lowered his head and took his hand away, leaving it on his lap.

There he was again, being all weird again just like at the building- but now with puppy eyes.

"Don't you go ignoring me again," she sounded more curt than she wanted, but she could not help herself. From all her teammates, Reinhardt was the only one that could truly exasperate her by tip-toeing like this.

"You're the one that's not here," he mumbled, shoulders dropping with a shaky breath. "Pictures?" He tapped the book on Fareeha's lap.

"Fine. But don't get them wet!" She admonished him with a little finger. He ate it up, making her giggle. "Silly! I need it for the pages! This is a _real book _!"

Ana was still gaping at his words. He thought he was imagining her- so he thought she would never come to visit him? That was absurd. An exaggeration. She would have come of her own free will sooner or later. Probably more later than sooner, but still.

It almost felt as if she had done something to him, when _he _was the one ignoring her all the time.

Fareeha turned several pages, shortly explaining the characters and people mentioned, and the idiot barely contained a sob when the book landed in one of their group pictures were he was hugging her and Torb at the same time. Damn it. It was unfair! Ana wanted to be angry at him but, instead, she ran her a hand through his hair. He leaned on her touch, eyes welling up, and she did not have the heart to push him away.

This would not end here, though. They would have a conversation when he was not high as a kite-for the Strike Team's sake and, Torb-be-blasted, for both their sakes as well.

Fareeha rolled her eyes when his tears ended in the next picture, and dried the paper with her skirt.

"Mama, he's a disaster."

"He is," Ana kissed her head. "But you never told me who's this guy here in the picture."

"Ah, Captain Banter! And this is the Strike Commander with his shotguns! Pew, pew!"

It was in that moment of apparent relaxation that Ana noticed Torbjörn coming back into the room-and she could have killed him on the spot for leaving her in such a mess.

"Where were you?" Although she tried not to growl, she did not put much effort into hiding her anger.

"I went to update the doctors about his _issues _and to grab something for him," he made a gesture with his hand. "But you're doing great."

"I hate you."

He smiled smugly under his growing beard, and walked towards the headboard. Then, he took the pitcher of water and filled a glass that he offered to the Crusader.

"Take these," he pressed two little pills into his hand. "We'll get to the beer when you're a bit more yourself."

Reinhardt looked at him with a shadow of distrust but did as he was told, not moving an inch from Ana's hand.

Three pictures later, he rubbed his eyes with a hand.

"This sucks _so hard _," he sniffled and shook his head. Then, he looked at Torb. "You putting me to sleep?"

"It's for the best. You'll feel better later."

"Nooo, please," his words started to sound slurred, and when he tried to straighten himself in the bed he failed miserably and ended sinking into the pillow, away from Ana. He let his head hang in defeat and hid himself behind his hands. "You'll leave, and I'll be alone. _Again _. Please? Everyone always..."

He started sobbing for real this time, his grief was so raw and tangible than Ana picked Fareeha up. It was a reflex; she was not in danger, and she was not upset at all, just maybe worried... But Ana was. She had seen grown men weep before, pulling at their hair and their beards in their misery. But seeing Reinhardt like this made her chest ache because he was like a big child. That sorrow, that pain- it was exactly what she wanted to protect Fareeha from. The reason she would fight till her last breath.

"Ah, don't write us off already," Torb snorted, patting his shoulder with a hand. "We won't kick the bucket anytime soon, right, Ana?"

Well, she was a bit sceptical about that, being at war at all-and so seemed the German, with good reason.

"Come on, now," the engineer produced a packet of tissues from his pockets and threw it into his lap. "What is the little princess going to think of you?"

But, if he stopped, it was only because of the drugs made him fall asleep.

_(The next day at some point) _

Jack's arrival back at the base was thankfully uneventful, Ana learned over hot chocolate. He had not read the report she had painfully written about Gibraltar, but he knew the important parts and was quite vexed about it. Not only their human loss had been terrible, it was a setback for them as an organization. The UN board was not pleased at all, but it would have been worse if the Omnics had tested the new weapon against a city-which was still a possibility.

"I'm glad you were there to take care of the team," he said, squeezing her shoulder slightly. "You're a bit like our guardian ang-"

"Don't," Ana snorted. She was nothing of the sort, not would ever be, thank you. He frowned at her harshness, and she took a breath. "I just happen to try to do my job the best I can, that's all."

Fareeha came in with a drawing she just had made of him in his military suit, copied from the infamous book. He was delighted, though Ana was starting to feel like she was getting too hyped about Overwatch. Of course she was still a little kid, but Ana did not want the life of a soldier for her. There was so much more she could be, infinite possibilities in a world at peace.

If they ever got to be at peace again.

"What would we do about the new Omnic?" She asked, frowning. "Any plans to decommission it?"

"Talked to Torb before coming around. He knows a way to track it," Jack tapped his fingers on the table. "Seems he helped designing something similar, and this or that is still the same. He'll have the details in human-readable input later."

"That's good news. Anything about the god program's tracking, tho? That's our main priority with the omniums."

"If we can track and stop that Omnic we may be able to see where it came from, strike at the factory. There has to be a clue, something we could use," he made a face when she did not look convinced. "We created them, they're not perfect."

That was true, but they seemed to be quite skilled at hiding their tracks. They needed a hacker, and they needed one by yesterday, but the slippery bastards did not seem very interested in working for an organization like theirs despite Gabriel's efforts at securing them even one. Sigh.

Her wrist datapad beeped, and her eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

_Need to talk. Important. Sam _

"Bad news?" Jack's voice was lower, gruffier. Concerned.

"Sam," she tapped the datapad to put the screen to sleep, and settled a lock of hair behind her ear. "How did he get my ID? It's - internal. Overwatch only."

"I'll ask around. We can block him, too, if you want."

She wanted to. Or better, she did not care how, but she did not want to talk to him. They had enough problems at the moment, and Sam would only distract her.

"He'll get tired of trying at some point," she made a thin line with her mouth. Blocking him straightaway would give him the impression that she still cared, for good or for bad. Ignoring him, though, would send the opposite message.

"He's never seen Fareeha, has he? Since you came to Overwatch, I mean."

"And that's how it will continue, if I can help it," she deadpanned. "Please, let's drop the subject. We've given him too much attention already."

He gave her a fond smile and got up.

"I'll go see Gabe, maybe you want to tag along? Ah, I didn't tell you, but the council did read your report and they want to recommend several soldiers for the rescue labour on the Gibraltar base. Reinhardt's got quite a solid case for the Cross of Honour for Valour."

"I'm sure he'll be delighted," she snorted and got up. "Come, _habibti _. Let's get you to the nursery for a while."

Fareeha took a crayon from her mouth and pouted, and Ana sighed.

"If you're a good little lady, we can ask Jack to train with us later at the gym."

"Yay!" She threw her arms up, and Jack chuckled.

The nurses made sure Gabriel's IV was always full of everything he might need, so it was not a concern that he would wake up in agony. The metal rod that had perforated his shoulder could have killed him, but the nanites had repaired most of the internal damage already. It was just the fractures now; a couple of days more and the doctors would take the sedatives away, help him heal through soft exercises. The nanites and his super-soldier metabolism accelerated bone growth, among other things, even if at expense of the energy of the host.

Jack grabbed a chair and sat down besides his friend, the extent of the injuries caching up in his mind at last.

"He could be dead," he said at last, letting go a long breath. His hand reached out to touch him, and Ana was sure he would have grabbed his hand if his arms had not been in braces.

"Super-soldier reflexes," Ana said, running her fingers through Gabriel's hair and disarming his curls a little bit. Oh, he was going to be delightful when he finally woke up and saw he could not even pee without assistance. She pinched his cheek, fondly. "Gibraltar's Commander could not say the same, and they were in the same room."

"I guess," he made a face. "I need to catch up with Reinhardt about all of this, it sucks. Have you got him a room and… clothes, I guess? Don't think he had time to grab anything."

"It had not occurred to me," Ana crossed her arms and paced near the bed. She had been worrying about the new Omnic and their inability to progress in the war despite their efforts, she had not stopped to consider that neither he or the other survivors had nothing.

Sometimes she could not help but wonder if they were going to win the war, and what it would take. They were making baby steps towards tracking the god programs controlling the Omnics, but every day they lost investigating was another day people died in the streets, and another day their extended Overwatch family suffered at the front.

She hated it, and it was at times like these that she tried to be away from Fareeha. She may be her strength and her core reason for fighting, but she was a child. Precious and pure, living among soldiers. She heard and saw enough that was not meant for her age already, and Ana did not want to pile up more on her little shoulders.

"It still be some days until he can get out of here, though, so there is still time."

Jack looked at her pace, his shoulders tense all of sudden. There was something he was dying to say, but he did not seem to dare to. She wondered what could have his pants in a kn-

"You guys friends again?" He asked, and shrunk on the chair at her glare, raising his hands. "It's an innocent question, I swear."

"As innocent as Torb," Ana crossed her arms, eyes studying every gesture he made. She could believe it coming from the engineer because yes, they were friends. But Jack- Jack would have an ulterior motive, and she knew exactly what it was. "Don't tell me; Gabriel organized a bet when she took me to Gibraltar with him."

"Ah, Ana," Jack ran a hand through his hair and laughed, blue eyes full of mirth. "We've been wondering for years when would you forgive his dare."

"Me," she looked at him, dumbfounded. "You forgot who ran several countries away to ignore me?"

He bit his lip, his amusement tingling with guilt, and Ana made slits with her eyes.

"Jaaack…?"

"Sending him was the best idea at the time. Promise," he raised his hands again. "I could not imagine you guys would stop talking altogether."

So, he did not run away. He did not ignore her because he did not care and, apparently, he missed her enough for Torb to get his nose in her life. That left her with two options, each more disturbing than the previous. He either still liked her, which was preposterous after almost three years, or he was being an idiot.

Or both.

Her wrist datapad beeped again, and she could have thrown it across the room. Sam never knew when to give up. The second time it was a bit more insistent, and she realized it was a call. Really.

"I can talk to him, if you like."

"I'm old enough to deal with my life myself, thanks," Ana said, her tone more curt than she intended, and she walked away from the ward. Talking in the middle of the Med bay was a no-no, but the datapad kept on beeping and she did not know where to hide from Jack.

She did not want to listen to Sam, and she could not care less about what he had to say. It was his choice to leave them and she respected that- maybe she would have to remind him of it.

Her eyes danced around and she saw the line of doors of the Med bay lodgings. She bit her lip and rushed to the last one.

"How do you dare to call me to my private ID?" She asked in arabic, opening the door. Reinhardt was still asleep, good. "Who gave it to you?"

"Ana, don't hang up. I've good news," Sam rushed. His voice still held the same warmth, and it froze her to the core. "I've heard Overwatch is looking for hackers, and I know of one that could help."

She stood in silence for a moment, her heart thumping in her ears.

"And you are calling _me _to give us this information because you want something in return. From me," she said, trying to keep her voice from showing any distress. It was hard. It was horribly hard, because she _knew _what he was going to ask- the only thing she had that could have any value to him.

"I just want to see her."

She closed her eyes at his words and felt a volcano growing on her chest.

"You abandoned her!"

"Ana, I needed time," he sighed, his voice hurt. "Everyone was dead, I almost did not make it. I just-"

"And I didn't, right? I didn't need time. They were not my friends, my father wasn't there. The father of my daughter almost didn't die."

Her eyes filled with tears of rage and hurt, but she would not allow them to fall. He did not deserve them.

"Ana-"

She hung up. Screw him.

Ana had never been one to love like others did. The consuming passion, the need of being one inside another, the fierce feeling of being rendered out of breath by the sight of the other half- that was just not her.

She loved quietly, from afar, letting her actions speak what her body would not-and she did not need much in return, either. Snuggles, hugs, maybe a kiss now and then, and the knowledge of having someone having her back always. _Always _.

That was no joke. When she gave her trust to Sam she expected him to uphold it as a commitment, as something unbreakable that would keep them close, tie them forever. She would trust him blindly in every aspect of her life, and she expected, _hoped _, he would do the same.

But he did not.

She liked to think she was understanding. With a hand on her bleeding heart, she knew how badly the death of their teammates had shaken Sam. How much he was suffering, and how much he blamed himself for it. She had pushed her own anguish in an effort to help him, but he pushed her away.

The only thing left between them were screams. Cold shoulders. Indifference.

She had known him for ages, been by his side for what seemed a lifetime, yet nothing mattered anymore. Not even Fareeha.

To have a child was never part of her plans for the future, yet it had happened, and Ana stood up the challenge. After all, Fareeha did not ask to be born, and what could-should!-they do but try to give her the best life possible despite the shit world they were living in?

Everything went to shit, yes, but Fareeha was innocent. A baby.

How could he abandon her? How dared he!

"Captain, you OK?"

Ana wiped her eyes quickly with the heel of a hand.

"Yes. Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you up," she said, and and took a deep breath. It did not shake. Good.

"I was, ah, half-conscious for a while," his voice was thick with pain but, at least, he seemed to be himself. "Was not sure if it was you or..."

"Yeah, I'd never come around to visit, right?" She snorted, turning around and leaning on the table. He looked confused and somehow betrayed by her words, as if it was a little secret he did not expect her to know. "You don't remember anything? Fareeha, the book of pictures?"

"I thought it was a dream," he winced half-way through the last word, and pushed himself onto his elbows to shift position. That did not seem to work very well, since the wince turned into a grimace. For all Ana knew, the knee reconstruction was as painful and messy as getting a root canal done but without removing the big nerves and on a massive scale of moving pieces; something she would not like to experience _at all _.

"You need more painkillers."

"Wait-just," he raised a hand, wiped his sweaty brow. "Give me a moment, _ja _? I can deal with it. For a while, at least," he took a deep breath. "You didn't seem very happy. Can also listen, if you want to-"

"Can you, now? That'd be a first," Ana snapped, and she saw the hurt on his face, his shoulders slumping just like the previous day. Damn her quick mouth. If they had this conversation now, she was going to screw up for sure, so she went by the bed and pressed the assistance button. "I'll better go now."

She was already at the door when she stopped in her tracks. He had not tried to stop her. There were no 'sorrys', no hushed words. No drama. She looked at him through the corner of her eye and saw sadness. Resignation.

He was letting her go again, like after the improvised hug at the building, even though it was clear he hated the idea.

Ana found herself making a thin line with her mouth. Her chest ached, torn open by Sam's voice. She had let Sam walk away from her life, too, since that was what he had wanted, and he never offered her a word. He left her to deal with his silence, their heartbreak, and her self-loathing.

"Reinhardt," she took a deep breath and turned around. If she left now, she would not be any better. Besides, she did not want to walk away. Not _like that _, at least. Not if- Not without talking first. "This is the worst time to talk about this, but I swear I'm trying to-"

"Don't," he said in a low tone, then smiled- and it was the most fake and most miserable smile she had ever seen him attempt. "It's ok. I'll shut up and stay away for good. Don't worry."

She gritted her teeth in frustration, raised her head and forced herself to count to five. Getting angry would not solve anything and, if she was upset, he was not at his best, either.

"Why do you do this? It is not because you don't want me close. Do you think I hate you, or something?"

His frown deepened.

"What do you mean _I think? _l You won't talk to me. Always glare. Disapprov-ah!" He leaned back on the pillows and held a fist against his mouth during the time it took him to be able to breathe again; with those cramps, he was not going to be able to cope without a lot of painkillers just yet. "I tried to keep you away. Happier," he continued, strained. She could tell he was pissed, but he must be feeling so poorly he only could sulk. "Because you're always mad when I'm around."

"That's because you're an idiot."

He made a gesture in her general direction, and she found herself cracking a little smile. It was so ridiculous she almost could not believe it, but she should have known by now he did not have a cruel bone in him.

"Truth is, I thought you ran away and started ignoring me because I said no," she admitted, looking at the ground. "So I acted in consequence."

"That'd be despicable!" He protested, shifting on the mattress. "I wouldn't do that. We are frien-" He took a sharp intake of breath and doubled over his leg, cursing through his teeth.

That was it. Ana walked to the door with the firm intention of finding the goddamned nurse that was taking forever to come around, and she almost collided with him as he came into the room holding a tray.

"Sorry, took me a while to get what I needed," the male nurse sent a bemused look first at Ana, then at Reinhardt, and sat down in a chair by the bed.

"Pain's bad again?" He made a sympathetic face. "All right, I've got some painkillers for you and some nano food-among other things. Give me an arm, if you may."

Reinhardt did not, if only because he was very busy digging his fingers above the brace and being a miserable grunting ball, but that did not face the nurse. He prepared a syringe and put an extra-long rubber band below one of Reinhardt's biceps. The crook of his elbows had several needle marks already; It was a shame they could not afford more IVs, since it would make his ordeal much more bearable.

"You guys friends already?" The nurse asked quite cheerfully, and Ana bit her lower lip. She was going to kill Gabriel. Slowly. "No? Shame. Well, this is done," the nurse removed the needle and pressed a cotton swab to the skin, sticking it with a bit of cloth tape. "Pills are here," he shook a little white box that he let by the bed, near the pitcher. "Take them after lunch."

The creases on the Crusader's face smoothed as the drugs took hold of him, and he let go a long, relieved sigh. The nurse pushed him back on the pillows, and rearranged the covers over him with a smile.

"There you go."

"Thank you, my friend," he said, voice shaking. Ah, the painkillers. Of course. "Captain, don't-"

His eyelids dropped, and he snapped them open again for around a second before he was under for good.

The nurse patted Ana softly in the back before leaving, and she let go a long breath, her eyes on the sleeping German. She felt silly, now. Should have tried talking to him at some point, instead of just shutting him out- but she was good at that. Sam made sure of it. _Three years _, she snorted, feeling a bit guilty now that the ache on her chest was slowly turning into embers.

Reinhardt had said they were friends, and she could not tell if he was a terrible liar or too optimistic for his own good. Or just an idiot, which seemed to be an exact definition of his persona.

A _nice _idiot, thought, who had not changed a bit. One that would get himself killed one of these days. Throwing himself at the bastions with his injuries, really.

She had not mentioned it in her report, but he really must put some work on following the chain of command. This time she was displaced, undergeared, and it was his territory- yet she outranked him, and what he did was utterly stupid.

She just added that to the list of things to discuss, ranking just before she asked if he still had feelings for her. Her heart said _yes _, but her mind knew that he had enough love for everyone at the base. In any case, it would be great if they could be friends, just like Jack and she were, but not if that would put him on an impossible position.

Her wrist datapad flashed again, and she looked at it thinking it might be the super-soldier.

"Layout of omnium to share. Think this through, please."

Ana ran her hands through her dark hair, feeling a pit opening on her guts. Goddamn bastard.


	7. The First Years, May 2049 (13d later)

Ana was anxious, and she hated that feeling. Being in control was part of what made her such a good sniper, and that was not compatible with her stomach dancing and her heart doing double time.

She was angry and disappointed in herself because of how much she cared about this, and she would be damned if she would let her teammates know. However, Jack sent her sympathetic glances every now and then and Gabriel-yes, Gabriel- had brought her ice-cream and whiskey twice in a week.

At least, she had been able to keep Torb and Reinhardt away from her business, if only because the pair were in the engineering bay most of the time-yeah, it seemed to be best place to recover from injury. Of course. In other circumstances she would have probably paid a visit to the bay, but she just did not have the energy to deal with them when her thoughts kept on going back to Sam.

It was for a good cause, she kept saying to herself. They needed that hacker, and Sam was not going to take Fareeha anywhere. It would be a quick visit, and she would not be alone. Half of her hated the idea of being chaperoned, but the other half was grateful.

Someone opened the gym's door and her eyes went there straightaway. It was Gabriel, clad in uniform, medals and all. His left forearm was still in a cast supported by a sling to take the strain off the healing shoulder but, other than than, he was looking quite well.

"Don't look at me like that," he made a gesture. "I don't like it either, but this is official business between your country and the UN. One of us needs to be presentable, at least."

Ana stopped the treadmill and stepped down, wiping the sweat off her face with a towel.

"When is he arriving?"

"In half an hour, at most."

That was enough time to take a shower, and so she walked towards the locker room, the Commander following her steps.

"I thought you wanted to discuss stuff before he arrived? And you said, exactly before he arrived," she heard him pull a face, his temper always shorter than usual when he had to play being a Commander.

"Yes. I want to know what the visit is about. What we will do. And where are we taking Fareeha to," she said, getting into the shower while Gabriel grumbled and growled about being the best moment for doing that. "Spill the beans."

"The idea is not to stay in one boring meeting room the whole time," she heard him say, "That'd give Fareeha something to entertain herself with, and I can bore Sam with the base without you two having to look at each other."

"You are plotting something, I know you."

"I'm always plotting something," she could imagine him shrugging lopsided. At least, he was honest; and that was what she liked best about him. That, and that he would not try to spy on her while naked-not since she broke his nose, anyway.

Ana got out of the shower clad in a towel. She had left some clothes there before starting to work-up; nothing fancy. She was a civilian in this case, and would let Gabriel play the Commander, the soldier, the boss. Whatever he had in mind, she hoped it would make the toast fall on her side instead of Sam's. Not that she desired anything bad for him, though. She just did not want him anywhere close to her new life.

"That took you long enough," he rolled his eyes. "We've got only seven minutes left. Happy to tell me now what was so important?"

"Nothing, really," she tied her hair up into a high ponytail. "I just wanted to screw with you."

"With me? Poor, innocent-"

"Bastard."

Gabriel laughed, holding his bad arm against his chest.

"So you finally found out," he bit his lower lip, eyes glinting. "So? You guys friends or more? Tell me it's more, because I bet an unholy amount of push-ups on it and losing it's going to hurt like a bitch with these arms."

"Ah, _pobrecito _," she snorted, using the little Spanish she knew; he would either understand or make his Mexican grandma ashamed. He put a hand on his heart, as if she had shoot him. Good. "I'll take my revenge. Not sure how yet, but you can safely bet on that."

"At least tell me you made him stop mopping about you," Gabriel rubbed the back of his short hair. I need him looking neat for the posters, you know."

Ana rolled her eyes, deciding it was a lost battle already.

"Let's get over what we need to do quickly," she said, walking towards the door, ignoring the Strike Commander's cooing.

Clad in jeans and a plain shirt, clean-shaven and with his hair perfectly trimmed, Sam was as handsome as he had always been. Gabriel walked towards him and offered him a hand, since he was not wearing his uniform, and Ana squeezed Fareeha's little shoulders softly. She had not told anything to her; there was no point in making her anxious about someone that she would not see again.

"I was under the impression your visit was official, Captain Muramak."

"My superiors decided to call it in the last minute," Sam said, his Egyptian accent thick on his voice, while they walked towards Ana. They were practically the same height, thought Gabriel was more muscular. "But I made a promise, and I don't like breaking my word."

He took a deep breath as he faced them, and then bowed graciously.

Idiot.

"It has been a long time, Ana."

_Not long enough _, she thought, but bit her tongue in the last moment. Fareeha was more important than their feuds.

"Hi," she said in the end, not even making a tiny effort to smile.

"And who's this little lady?" He crouched in front of Fareeha, green eyes glinting, and she had to make an effort not to grab her daughter and put her behind herself. She looked at him, then at Ana.

"Mom? He's got the same skin colour as us," she said, eyes big. Ah, of course. Even if they had people from every corner of the world, they certainly did not have many arabs.

"That's because I'm from the same place as you are, little one," he grinned. "I'm Sam. What's your name?"

"Fareeha."

Ana's heart hammered in her chest. Here he was, smiling as if this was nothing, as charming as he had always been, and the only thing she wanted to do was punch him in the guts and run. It was unfair. Unfair, that she got to feel like shit, unfair that Fareeha found him charming, and unfair that-

"Well, well! Let's get on about our thing, then," Gabriel took his beret off and put it on Fareeha's head, making her giggle. "Forge ahead, Strike Commander!"

"Yes!" She jumped, and ran away from Ana's hands, making guns with her hands and shooting at imaginary enemies.

"Wow, she is going to be quite the soldier."

"That'd never happen while I'm alive," Ana deadpanned, glaring at Sam. Who the hell did he think he was to make those comments. How could he say something like that, after what they had seen and lived through. How could he not, _at least _, wish for a better life for their daughter.

"So, Captain," Gabriel got between them quickly. "Just to make our agreement clear; your visit will stay between us gentlemen and lady."

"That's how it is, yes," he nodded. "I contacted Ana about the hacker on my own volition, anyway. I find what you are doing commendable, and wanted to help in any way I could."

"Most appreciated," the Strike Commander fixed his goatee, looking at him with approval. "We are in need of allies, as any UN-allied government knows. It has not been easy to find the funds or the personnel to get our project rolling, if you know what I mean."

Great. That was just great. Why not offer him a position at Overwatch while they were at it? Ana restrained herself from raising a hand to cover her eyes. She was not taking this well. Not at all. At least Fareeha was having fun on her own, little treasure she was.

"This hacker of yours, how do you know him? Who is he?"

"Ah, well. I really cannot say," he made a little gesture with his hands. "He doesn't like people knowing about his life - but maybe in time, he will trust you enough."

"And why has a guy this zealous decided to help us?" Ana hooked her thumbs on the small pockets of her jeans. "What's in for him?"

"He's got his reasons."

"Not sure that's acceptable eno-"

"Sure it is," Gabriel nodded, eyes glinting in a very particular way. "We've a war to win."

She pursed her lips. Her mind told her Sam had no reason to betray them, but her gut feeling was that the could not be trusted. Him, or some hacker with unclear reasons why he should to help them. Yet, this was not the place or the company to discuss these issues with the Strike Commander. Maybe she could discuss it with Jack first. Yeah. Gabriel would be easier to convince if Jack was involved.

Fareeha took that moment she was busy with her musings as a clue to be cheeky, and pushed open one of the doors on the corridor- the only one that had a red light above it, the only one she knew was strictly out of bounds.

Ana ran after her straight away, heart in her throat even if Fareeha had stopped almost by the door, hands covering her ears.

"I've told you a thousand times you cannot get in here," she hissed, grabbing her by an arm.

"Sorry?"

"Not good enough!"

"Hey, Jack!" Gabriel called from Ana's back. He and Sam had followed her to the training practice. "Been looking for you."

"Sir," he saluted straightaway, all serious, rifle on his shoulder. It was wrong, so _wrong _, but they always knew to play along when stripes and medals were involved.

"It's all right," their Commander made a gesture with his hand so he would stand down. "I was showing our visitor around the base."

Jack secured the rifle and walked towards them with a very straight back and confident half-smile, clad in military fatigues.

"Captain Jack Morrison, Overwatch Strike Team."

"Captain Sameer Muramak, 1st Corps Armoured Division, Egyptian Army," they shook hands, and then Jack turned around.

"Hey, Ana," he smiled at her with a warmth she had not seen in years, and patted Fareeha's head. "Hey, Strike Commander, ma'am!"

"Can I see you shoot, Jack? Can I? Please?" Fareeha grabbed his arm, and he pulled her up as if she was a little monkey.

"No way, miss. You've already-"

"Go, Jack. Now that I cannot beat you at it," Gabriel rolled his eyes in a very theatrical way, and Ana glared at them. Were they set on undermining her authority with her daughter in front of Sam? "And take the Captain here, have some fun while I take a break with Ana, eh?"

"But can I see? Please, mom?"

Ana took a deep breath and grabbed a pair of safety glasses and a headset and put them on her daughter.

"Look from here. Exactly here. Don't want to see you moving an inch, it's that clear?"

Fareeha jumped in place several times and blew her a kiss. _Blew her a kiss _. Ana snorted, but could not find in herself to stay angry with her.

Gabriel put a hand on Ana's back and walked her towards the back of the room. She was not sure what the point of their little break was, but she humoured him and they sat on a bench.

"Did Fareeha know Jack was here?" She asked casually, sitting by his side and not losing her from her sight.

"Maybe," he said, rubbing the forearm of his bad arm.

Shoots started echoing in the room as the two men fired in the range, and Ana had to cover her ears. Doctors said they had healed just fine, but loud noises were still particularly painful. Headset on, muffling most of the noise, everything seemed to happen in an alternate dimension where she was just a spectator.

Jack and Sam exchanged smiles, each more perfect than the other. Jack was taller, his back was broader, his muscles thicker- but Sam had a way of moving that made him look like he could _flow _like water if he wished it so. It was ridiculous, because he piloted tanks and robots and had never been one to fight hand-to-hand, but the potential was there. Had always been there. He rubbed the back of his head suddenly and laughed at Jack, clapping him on the back. Impressed, for sure. Jack's aim was legendary, after all. Almost as good as Ana's, just not with a sniper rifle.

A hand reached across her back and grabbed her right shoulder. She felt pulled in a lateral hug against the Strike Commander. He was looking at the same idiots she was, mouth pulled in that pout he made when he had lots of things on his mind.

He had been a bit different since he woke up from the drug-induced sleep. Ana could not tell exactly why and he had certainly not talked to her about anything grand, but she had noticed his eyes hardening every now and then without any apparent reason. It could well be he almost died and he had not made peace with the fact, yet. She let herself be hugged, and leaned on him.

Sam looked back every now and then, eyes looking for Fareeha first, who has enjoying herself like the kid she was, and then at Ana. While their daughter may smile at him, Ana would definitely not. She hoped, _wished _, that he was thinking he could have had all this for himself and he did not.

After a while, the pair walked back to them and Sam waved a hand at Jack.

"He is fu-" he stopped, eyes big for a moment. "Fantastic shooter. Yeah. Fantastic. I'm certainly impressed. I hadn't seen that skill since the last time I saw Ana shooting."

Gabriel squeezed her for a moment before standing up.

"I only have the best of the best," he smirked, smug. "Let's go somewhere else before all this praise gets into Jackie's head."

"I'll tag along for now, if it's all the same to you," Jack stretched again. "Finished my drill for today, and there's just paperwork waiting for me now."

Ana took the goggles and headset from her daughter just in time for Gabriel ask the little Strike Commander to bring them somewhere else. She pumped a fist in the air and ran away. It was clear that he had talked Fareeha into his plan, whatever it was.

"I hope what you've seen of us so far reinforces your idea to share the hacker's details with us, Captain Muramak," Jack smiled politely.

Sam chuckled, showing the gap in his teeth he got years back trying to jump inside his robotank.

"The Strike Commander already has his details on the datapad, Captain Morrison," he looked fairly amused. "I'm sure you are aware why I am here, though."

"Oh, yes. Yes indeed. The UN are still recruiting allied countries that can help us win this war. It is only natural that you want to see our installations," he nodded, hooking a hand stuffed lazily on one of his pockets. "We do get visits every now and then. Kids as well."

Ana almost laughed at the string of nonsense and at Sam's confused face. What was even better was that nobody caught on to it. Not even Sam.

"This is the Engineering bay," Gabriel waved a hand at the two large doors in front of them. "Here we construct and repair our technology, which I'm sure you would appreciate, Captain."

"Of course. I'd be delighted to see it. I'm a bit of an engineer myself, making improvements to my robotank when I can."

Oh, yes. The little shit almost spent more time sleeping in the garage with the tank than with her. They kept on talking as they walked inside, but Ana's mind was far from their conversation. Every time he opened his stupid mouth, a new memory nailed itself on her chest. She hated it. She hated it with passion.

"Fareeha! You little demon," Torbjörn's gruff voice was tinted with fondness. "Are you the Strike Commander, now?"

"Yes! What you doing, Torb? Tell me!"

Ana raised her eyes from the ground to see the engineer with her laughing daughter in his arms. At least, Fareeha was having the time of her life. Maybe she was too strict with her? She was five already, almost as tall as Torb, and usually very well behaved.

"What in the world is this?" Sam looked up at Reinhardt's armour, his hand almost caressing the plate. "It is not a robot, is it?"

"Torbjörn, this is Captain Sameer Muramak, Egyptian army," Gabriel introduced him.

"Ah, _him _," the engineer left Fareeha on the ground and put his hands on his hips, totally unimpressed. He looked cross-more so than usual. "You'd keep your hands to yourself, mister Captain, if you appreciate them."

There was no way Sam had not seen Torb, but he turned around again and looked at him up and down, his eyebrows going to his scalp.

Rude.

"Apologies," he put his hands on his back and bowed slightly. "I got carried away."

"Yes, yes. My work has that effect in people," he snorted and turned to Gabriel, arms crossed. "Have you all come here to make the old proverb of 'one working five looking' a reality, or did you want something?"

The Engineering bay did not seem to change no matter how many times Ana visited it. There were huge unfinished pieces lying here and there, engines, people cutting, slamming, and smashing as if they were a strange orchestra producing even stranger music. Torbjörn was always busy with something, day or night, Winter or Summer.

"This sweetheart is our Chief Engineer, Torbjörn Lindholm," the Strike Commander rolled his eyes. "He's in charge of-"

"Wait, I know you," Sam clapped himself in the thigh. "From your work at the Engineer's Guild. Your weapon designs are fantastic!"

Torb's face soured even more, and Ana elbowed Sam on the back.

"Drop it," she told him almost on his ear. "Not a good subject."

Sam looked at her without understanding, but he did not have to understand shit. He just had to shut up before Torb tested said weapons on him. Fortunately, Fareeha came to the rescue, looking up at the armour suit that was at least seven times her height, eyes twinkling in awe.

"Ahhh, I love it!" She grabbed Torb and pointed at the armour with her free hand. "I want in, please!"

"Ah, afraid not, little cookie. It's too big for you."

"But I'm the Strike Commander!"

"If you are a good kid, maybe one day I'll build one especially for you."

"For real?!"

"Absolutely not," Ana growled. This was exactly why she was strict with Fareeha. _Exactly this _. Once Sam was gone, she was going to get the whole Strike Team together and tell them to freaking stop humoring Fareeha about soldiers, armours, and whatnots. "Come here, young lady. Now," she emphasized, seeing that she was about to protest.

Sam chuckled, eyes full of mirth and something else she was not able to read, and then looked around.

"We were hoping you could give the Captain a brief tour around the bay," Jack leaned on a column of boxes. "Where's Reinhardt, anyway?"

"Physiotherapy, I believe," he rolled his eyes. "Not that he has told me, the big oaf."

Gabriel and Jack exchanged looks. They were planning something, Ana could feel it, and it filled her with cold dread. Of course they would never leave them alone- Gabriel was like a dog with a bone when he found something that amused him, and Jack was only happy to follow their Commander. Ah. But with Sam here- Oh, dear.

"You two," Ana raised a finger in their direction, and they just smirked like the little nasty super-soldiers they were. "Don't make me kill you today."

"Have you ever designed armour for Overwatch, master Lindholm?" Sam asked, oblivious to their little argument and looking towards several metallic plates hanging on chains above their heads. "Maybe something similar to those Korean Mekka blueprints that were leaked a week ago?"

Torbjörn crossed his arms, scrutinizing Sam in much the same way he had done to him earlier. By the way his bushy eyebrows bunched together, he still did not look impressed at all-or even inclined to be polite.

"No," was his sole answer. Sam was not worthy of the explanation, of course, but Ana knew it translated into, no, he had stopped building anything that could be hacked into. His turrets, the armour he crafted for them- all was designed so only humans could use it. He was not pleased with the arrangement but, at least, the Omnics could not use them against Humanity.

"Overwatch doesn't have an armoured unit," Gabriel pitched in. "We are mostly special ops, rescue ops, and infantry."

"No? Then, what is this?" Sam looked back to the armour again. "Actually, it reminds me a lot of that crazy German armoured unit, you know the one? With the barriers and the huge hammers. They were annihilated, of course. I just don't know what they were thinking, playing-"

"Stop putting your foot in your mouth, for Earth's sake," Ana grabbed his arm. That was Sam all along. Never stopping to consider what others may think about a topic before running straight through it like an elephant in a china shop.

Sam turned towards her, this time both surprised and horrified.

"Wait. You _enlisted _one of them?"

A wrench flew past him; far away enough to be safe, close enough to make him take a step backward. Ana turned around to see Torbjörn taking a handful of hammers from his toolkit, ready to continue the onslaught.

"Get the fuck out of here before I run you out."

"All right, everyone," Gabriel put himself between Torb and Sam and pushed the latest towards the exit. "We're leaving _now _."

"I did not want to insult any of your colleagues, of course. It's just I've always been studying other armies and-"

Torbjörn hammered on a piece of steel with such strength the sound echoed like a bell, and they rushed out of the Engineering bay.

"Excuse our engineer, please," Jack said once they were safely outside, rubbing the back of his neck "It's the first time I've seen him launching his tools at anyone."

"-you know where it is, right?" Ana heard Gabriel asking Fareeha, and her daughter nodded.

"Of course! The Strike Commander knows it all," she grinned, showing all her little teeth, hands on her hips very much in the same way Ana usually held hers when she was scolding someone.

"Of course," he tried to cross his arms, but the most he could do was hold his bad arm against his chest.

When Fareeha forged ahead, shooting her twin finger-guns, Ana sighed. She did not want to know what they had in mind, she truly did not, but she could feel their intentions as clear as she could see her friends in front of her. Yet, what could she do to stop them? She could say no, for starters, but that would not deter them. She could get serious- and that would just throw more wood on the fire. Leaving was not even possible, not while Fareeha and Sam were around.

The only thing that she thought may work was damage control, sadly.

"It was my fault," Sam continued, raising his hands. "I was inconsiderate. But, now that I know one of them is still alive, I must meet your colleague."

"So you can insult him to his face?"

"So I can ask him to elaborate about the design and reasoning behind their armour," he explained slowly, almost glaring at her, "since your team seem to have him in high esteem."

"I'm sure Lieutenant Wilhelm would humour your questions as long as you are _respectful _," Jack looked amused, but a crink on his eyebrows told Ana he was a bit worried. "I've never seen the man angry, but-"

"I'll be on my best behavior. Apologies again."

"It's not us you need to apologize to," Ana rolled her eyes. Gabriel grabbed her by the waist and squeezed her against himself, trying to stifle a laugh with a snort. He was clearly having the time of his life, and she elbowed him in the ribs.

"Cut it already," she growled. "I'm never defending you two from shittalkers ever again."

"Ey, I've done nothing!" Jack hurried in front of her, hands raised, and Sam's laugh echoed around the corridor.

"Ah, I haven't seen banter like this in years," he said, stuffing his hands on his pockets, a sad smile on his face. She could imagine he was thinking about the friends they lost years back-just like she still did so very frequently. "You are a special team, indeed."

"You mean they're being especially stupid today," Ana pushed the Strike Commander away. "To which I'd say no, they are always like this."

They all stopped in front of the door Fareeha was barely holding open when they heard a bellow that would put an ox to shame.

Problem being, she knew that particular ox, and so did Gabriel and Jack. The look in their faces said their plan had taken yet another unexpected turn, and Ana almost winced at the sound of a loud German curse while Fareeha doubled over with laughter.

Ah. Torb said he was likely to be doing physiotherapy, did he not?

Still laughing, Fareeha rushed inside before Ana could even think to stop her. She was just in time to hold the door before it slammmed shut in her face.

"Rein!" She heard her call him out.

"_ Mäuschen, _why are you here alone?" Reinhardt's voice sounded strained, yet it was daubed with fondness.

"I'm not alone!" Her daughter chirped, laughing.

"Captain?"

She opened the door enough to pop her head in, and saw the German sitting on the ground with Fareeha firmly attached to his neck. By his side there was one of their physiotherapists looking at her clock, unamused.

"You owe me three flexions," she said, bending his bad leg and holding it in place. He winced, his whole body tensing. "Go. I've other people to help, you know."

"Haven't you tortured me enough already?" He asked, all puppy eyes, but she still held his leg in place.

"You want to get back into that armour of yours, you do your exercises."

Ana felt a couple of heads popping over her shoulders, and she almost felt like they were spying on the poor man as he huffed while pushing the physiotherapist away. Fareeha was now kneeling by his side, looking at the whole process quite interestedly- or, more likely, at the scars the surgery had left on him, since he was wearing shorts. Ana would have called her back, but she did not want to break his concentration.

Reinhardt cursed loudly again halfway through the exercise, thankfully in German, and the physiotherapist let go a long exasperated sigh. Then, she straightened his leg, making him groan and grab his thigh.

"It bad?" Fareeha put her little hands over his, looking at him with vague concern.

"Ah, I _really _need a hug right now," he whined, and Ana bit her lip with pride when Fareeha scurried between his arms and squeezed herself against him.

"You're terrible," she said, laughing.

"And you're just like your mom, _liebchen _," he chuckled, kissing the top of her head.

Ana let go a soft snort and felt a smile tugging at her lips for the first time since Sam showed up. She could not even measure the man's silliness anymore.

_Friends _. She would like that very much indeed- but she still had not decided what to do, or how to talk to him.

Suddenly, there were not only two super-stupids on her back but also the cherry-on-top, and the weight of the three of them basically pushed Ana inside the room. At least, they caught their footing quick enough not to fall all over one another in a pile.v

"Ah, I was wondering where would you be," the Crusader smiled at her. "Why are you all here?" He looked around, but then his smile faltered. "Well. _Almost _all of you."

"We're showing Captain Muramak around," Gabriel clapped Sam on the back, pushing him forwards. Reinhardt's eyebrows rose a bit, but the physiotherapist securing his knee back in the brace took all his attention again. She stood up once finished, glaring at everyone in the room. Ana felt her pain; she was there to work, and it was just impossible with all of them around.

"Ice it at least three times a day, starting _now _," she put her hands on her hips. "And take your pills, please. You really need to get these exercises done so we can move on to some real work."

"Sorry," he rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll do it better tomorrow, that's a promise. Ah, give me a moment, pumpkin," he said to Fareeha. "Let me get up."

"Wouldn't it be easier if you did this on a bench or a table?" Ana asked, watching him squirming closer to a wall to get some leverage.

"He's broken one of the rehab machines and snapped two benches in half already," the physiotherapist snorted, and Ana rolled her eyes. She should have guessed. "Ice it. _Now _," she pointed at him before getting out of the little room.

"Need to buy more German-proof equipment," Jack chuckled, putting one of his large arms over his shoulders and pulling him up. "Ugh, and less beer!"

"There may be some truth in your words, as much as they pain me," Reinhardt snorted as they struggled up. He looked worn out, as if he was not sleeping well.

His leg may be getting better, but the stubble that was almost a beard on its own right told Ana that other things were not. Yet, she had not really asked, being her mind preoccupied with Sam's visit. Maybe she could recommend him one of their counselors, though, the one she usually confided in.

Fareeha jumped by his side, arms up, and he picked her up as if she was nothing, settling her on his left arm. To be honest, Ana had not expected her daughter to hold the Crusader in such high esteem since he had been away for years, but something told her _someone _shorter than herself may have had sneaked her in the weekly calls while she was away on her missions.

In a cross between hopping, stumbling, and shuffling, Reinhardt crossed the few feet that separated him from the team and stood in front of Sam, face grave for a moment.

"Captain, I'm hurt. You never said you had a brother!" He said, and proceeded to grab Sam in one of his patented bear hugs that also included Fareeha. If Sam wanted to complain, well, tough luck-his face was practically buried between a biceps and a pectoral. "Lieutenant Reinhardt Wilhelm, at your service. Any family of my friends is family of mine," he continued, blowing raspberries on Fareeha's shoulder and letting the other man breathe at last.

"Captain Sameer Muramak, Egyptian army," Sam frowned, running a hand through his short hair. He did not correct the assumptions on his identity this time, either, and Ana could not help but wonder. However, he did not seem pleased. Not at all. "You must be the Crusader."

"That'd be me, yes," he puffed his chest, but there was no boasting, no flexing. Just grave pride. "How do you know us, my friend?"

"I serve at the Armoured Division," Sam made a gesture with a hand, chin raised. "I like to study other armies. Learn what I can, improve my robotank to be more efficient. I must confess I've always been curious about your armours."

"My actual armour is a modification," Reinhardt said the words quite slowly, his brow crinking. "But you can see it in the Engineering bay."

"I have already. Pretty impressive. I wonder-"

"I saw it too!" Fareeha squeed quite loudly, taking a handful of the German's t-shirt on her hands. "You let me in? Please?"

"Fareeha!" Ana put her hands on her hips. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Ah, you're too small, _mäuschen _," Reinhardt pushed her up so she could climb onto his shoulders. The way he was bearing his weight on his left leg made him look a bit like a crooked tower, but the girl held on to him just fine. "And we don't want to make your mom angry."

"Pah. Being the Strike Commander is no fun," she pouted.

"Someone that finally understands," Gabriel sighed theatrically, and Jack gave him a push.

Reinhardt turned again towards Sam, who had been cut off by Fareeha's intervention. He did not seem angry, but there was something in the tightness on his jaw, the way his eyes wrinkled.

"What were you saying, my friend?" He asked, patting him in the shoulder. He looked around after that and hopped back to the wall where he had left his crutches. Fareeha laughed, having the time of her life.

"Ah, nothing important," he waved a hand. "I was just wondering what would be stronger, your armour or my robotank."

There was a moment of deafening silence while they both looked at each other, perfectly serious and composed. Then, Reinhardt walked back to them with a little _dangerous _smile on his face.

"That would be an unfair fight," he said, juggling with the crutches and Fareeha's attempts to descend from his back. She ended like a bag of potatoes over his shoulder, flailing and laughing.

"For you?"

"Of course! I'd need to let you win, you're our guest!" Reinhardt snorted. "Anything else would not be right-unless winning at arm-wrestling is allowed?" He looked at Gabriel, and the Strike Commander smiled like the cat that ate the cream.

"Oh, I don't think the Captain would feel offended if you won fair and square, Reinhardt."

Ana tried very hard not to hide her face on her hands, but Sam laughed instead of swallowing the bait.

"You know, I was tempted to accept for an instant, but this- I'm a grown-up, I know when I've lost," he made a gesture with his hands, then rubbed his short hair. His stance had relaxed somewhat, too, and now there was something akin to sadness on his eyes. "I consider your part of the deal paid, Strike Commander."

"I'm glad. Hope you enjoyed your tour."

"What deal?" She looked at Gabriel, an eyebrow raised, and he got behind Jack with a quick sidestep. "There was only one deal, and _I _was the one to pay it off."

"I wanted to see your team, Ana," Sam admitted. "I wanted to know that you two were doing good, but I sure wasn't expecting this. They could be faking it, but her?" He shook his head. "I'm glad that you have some good people with you," he finished, waving a hand at her idiot friends and Fareeha.

She was on the ground now, shooting at Gabriel with her finger guns while he feigned a horrible death. Then, it was Jack's turn to fall to the ground, groan included.

Ana's breathing caught on her throat. She had never been so painfully aware of being part of the Strike Team's dysfunctional family of idiots. Her idiots, that were supporting her without asking any questions, the ones that treated her daughter as if she was their own.

She looked down for a moment, gritted her teeth, and swallowed the lump on her throat.

Partially.

"We are good," was the only thing that she managed to say.

Sam nodded slowly, the little smile on his face fading. Maybe he was expecting her to say something deep, or to praise his long-awaited maturity. Not happening.

"Well. I think this is my hour slot gone anyway, isn't it?" He said. "Would appreciate a tour back to my helicopter, Strike Commander."

"We'll all go with you, make sure you don't knock me down and stay around spying on us," Gabriel chuckled, taking Fareeha with him. Jack laughed -it was actually quite impressive how much Sam was putting up with these two without batting an eyelid. Maybe he had, indeed, grown up.

Ana sighed, but she was smiling out of relief. It was over, at last, and they had secured a hacker to help them against the omniums. Her eyes caught Gabriel's-he was both proud and amused, damn it, and he elbowed Jack so he would look at her, too. She was going to kill them for setting her up like this. And then, she was going to treat them to the best chocolate ice-cream with whisky her Captain's rank could get her.

-00000-

Reinhardt stared blankly at the door. He had hesitated for a moment between tagging along and going to sit down somewhere comfy, but the choice had been made for him. The others had just left the room among laughter, closed the door in his face, and had not looked back even once.

The silence they had left behind was deafening.

Sure they had not realized it. They were just happy that everything had ended well-he was, as well, even if he was still not sure who Captain Whatever was. Gabriel said he was Ana's brother, but he was more likely to be Fareeha's father.

He would not know anytime soon, though. Ana may not hate every move he made now, which was an improvement, but she had no interest in talking to him, either. He had tried a couple of times, but she had always been busy with this or the other, and- anyway. Better not to think about it.

At least, it had also been nice to get the team together for a change. _Almost _together. He rubbed his stubbled cheek. He wanted to pay Torb a visit, but he could not deny he was a bit scared to pop by the Engineering bay-it was not easy to dodge wrenches with a bum leg.

Torb had been in quite a bad mood for the past week -or, at least, Reinhardt had only noticed it once he managed to leave Med bay. The engineer had been able to track down the factory where the monstrous Omnic came from, which happened to be an omnium somewhere in France, but that only seemed to have pissed him off even further. The last drop was the afternoon Ana mentioned his fight with the bastions after Reinhardt was _totally not _complaining about his access to the gym being revoked.

Ah, he had not expected him to get angry-well, _angry _did not convey the amount of cursing and wrenches that flew towards his head.

He did not understand why it was such a great deal. The Crusaders would have never seen his standoff against the bastions as something bad, or worrying. If anything, they would have had supported his choice of avenging his friends.

Reinhardt shifted, feeling the bite of the crutches on his forearms, the weight of his whole body on his shoulders. He missed them. He missed his squad, their banter when they managed to survive yet another long fight, and he missed Rosa's glares when she had to repair his armour. He missed Marta's playful flirting when she had too much beer, the incredible cooks they had at the canteen who would always allow him seconds... even thirds.

Almost three years of memories made him swallow hard.

He better go to ice his knee.

His favourite spot nowadays was the couch at the Rover meeting room. It was large enough to hold him stretched out as long as he was alone -which, sadly, was not a problem- and the coffee table in front of the screen was the perfect height to stack on a bunch of pillows to support his leg.

By his side, he had a pack of cold gel and a little box of drugs he had collected from Med bay-and that he did not want to take. He had weaned himself off them as soon as the pain had been bearable, but the nightmares had persisted nonetheless. Falling asleep was getting back to the screams, the fire. Machine guns firing and airplanes bombarding his position while everyone died by his side. The few that survived were blown up to pieces while he could do nothing about it.

Nightmares after a bad mission were not that rare but, in the past, he had grabbed the datapad were he kept all the pictures and videos he had collected through the years and at least, _at least _, he could stop seeing his friends' faces covered in blood and dirt.

He did not have that luxury anymore.

Everything he had was lost in Gibraltar's blast. All his pictures, included the copies he made since the Omnics hacked every single storage cloud in the world. The presents people had made to him over the years, the parts of his gryphon armour. Sara said her mother had some pictures of Gibraltar, and promised to send them to him-but she had already left HQ to get back to her native, destroyed rock.

He rubbed his burning eyes with the heel of his hand and switched on the screen. He hated having this much time to think, damn it. He should be at the gym, or arm-wrestling someone, or, at least, having beer.

He hated feeling this alone.

The beeping of his wrist datapad startled Reinhardt awake. He shifted to ascertain the danger-and the armrest cracked under his fingers as he jarred his leg down the pillows. He groaned between his teeth and ran a hand over his face.

At least, he could not remember what he was dreaming about.

The datapad kept beeping; It was Torbjörn, asking for his whereabouts with his natural gruffness. Five minutes later, he joined him at the meeting room-which was a surprise. A pleasant one, for a change.

"You still look like shit," the engineer snorted, sitting by his side on the couch. He had left the contraption he wore on his left arm when working at the bay but, other than that, it was clear by the smudges on his clothes he had come directly from there.

"Yet, I'm still striking compared to you," Reinhardt half-smiled. His friend had no idea how much a sight for sore eyes he was. "Not angry at me anymore?"

"Have you got any more sense in that scatterbrain of yours? No, right? Then I'm still angry," he crossed his arms, but was not looking at him. There was something odd about him. Something he could not pinpoint. "Did you manage to talk to Ana?"

"Well..." he rubbed the back of his neck. "I think she's kind of avoiding me."

"Bet she was busy with the whole Captain Arsehole business. Did you meet him?"

"He has a stick shoved up his arse, true. But he knew about the Crusaders, so there is that."

The engineer's face soured straightaway. He seemed about to say something, but he gritted his teeth instead, glaring at nothing in particular as if he had eaten a bag of chilies.

"Is everything alright, my friend?"

"No, it's not," he growled, then took a deep breath. "But I came here to give you something, not to bore you to tears with my problems."

"Nonsense. You've been in a foul mood for days straight. I'm happy to listen," Reinhardt grabbed his leg with both hands to shift it more easily. Pain was always worse when his leg was off he brace, and it made his eyes go straight to the pill box. Ice was not helping much and, the sooner he could get through his exercises, the sooner he would get his life back.

But later. When Torb was gone. If painkillers were strong enough to actually help, they made him feel even worse than he was feeling already. If not, they did nothing at all.

"So, what's the matter?"

The engineer pursed his mouth and remained silent for a moment, as if he was weighting the pros and cons of telling him what was on his mind.

"Talked to Ingrid some days back," he said at last. "She said there's a blockade in Sweden. That she's struggling to feed our kids," he leant his chin on his hands. "My family is starving while those blasted Omnics use my designs to kill my neighbours, and I'm here twiddling my thumbs. I cannot even talk to her now."

"Sure there's-"

"Can you imagine how many families are struggling? How many parents, brothers, kids are screwed up? Dying? Dead just like the guys at Gibraltar? All because of those bloody robots I helped build," he continued, raising a hand to his forehead. "Now, my family's caught in it, too. Which is only fair, of course it is, but it still I makes me wanna rip my beard off."

He was talking like a machine gun, and Reinhardt felt for him. Even though he knew Omnics and weapons were hairy subject for his friend, he had never seen him this distraught.

"It's been a fucking horrible fortnight," Torb continued. "And, if the Omnics rampaging were not bad enough, Captain Stupid thought he could sweet-talk me about my weapons- and you went to fight a bunch of bastions crippled and without your weapon, you bloody German."

"Ah, that- It sounds much worse when you put it that way..."

"It _is _as bad as it sounds!" The engineer raised his hands in exasperation. "What in the world was on your mind?"

Hah. He did not want to remember the details. Not at all. Not ever.

"We Crusaders-"

"Yeah, yeah. Justice, honour, and glory. At this point, I know these as if I had made the oath myself, and it still only tells me you Crusaders are one sandwich short of a picnic," Torbjörn rolled his eyes.

"I could have taken them down," Reinhardt said, scrunching his eyebrows together. It was on his honour to bring those Omnics down. And he would have done it, his leg be damned, even if his friend disapproved strongly about it. "Besides, the Captain was-"

"Saving your arse? Sure she was," he crossed his arms, looked at him, and finally snorted. "Look, just don't do this again. You think it's all glorious, but running to your demise is the most stupid thing you can do besides building weapons that can be used against your family."

Reinhardt rubbed the back of his head, messing his golden hair. No, dying in combat was not as glorious as he had once believed. And it was even worse for those that were left behind.

Was that ultimately why he was so angry?

He knew a lot of people. He could have a drink with almost anyone on the planet, happily. But friends that actually cared for his well-being enough to actually confront him over it? He could count those on the fingers of one hand-and most of them were not among the living anymore.

The irony. He hurt so much about his lost friends, and yet he could not see how his actions affected others. Ah, he felt like an idiot, now. A _loved _idiot. He really needed this today.

He squeezed the engineer against his side.

"I didn't know you liked me this much. I'm honoured!"

"I don't like you! Far from it," The engineer snorted, but did not pull his arm away. "You give me nothing but hard times, breaking your armour every single time you get out there or getting yourself mauled. Or both!"

Reinhardt laughed, and it felt like it was the first time he did in a long time.

"Next time you decide to dispense justice, make sure you'll live long enough to tell the story _before engaging _, you hear me?"

"I'll do my best," he put a hand over his chest as if he was taking an oath. "Thank you. I couldn't ask for a better friend."

"Pah. Don't jest," he looked down, shoulders slumping all of sudden as if all the anger had dissolved in thin air now that it no longer served any purpose. Reinhardt's _alleged _recklessness may have sounded like a big issue but, of course, it was nothing compared to Torb's family's problems.

There must be something they could do. There was a blockade, right? So they would be missing food, clothes- all the basics.

"What about we go to Sweden?" Reinhardt scratched his growing beard. Sometimes the easiest solutions were the best. "It's not like we have huge salaries, but sure we can buy some gifts for your family. And sure we can find a way to help the town a bit, too."

"We're at war, idiot. We cannot-"

"Ah, of course we can. You'll get me to a good Swedish doctor. For my leg."

Torbjörn took a big breath and turned to look at him with huge eyes.

"Actually I know- well, I did," he looked a little sad for a moment. "They were Swiss, though. But they used to work at a very good hospital, and I'm sure I can get you a consult there."

"See? Easy!" Reinhardt placed the cold gel pack on his knee again and shifted slowly, trying to get more comfortable. The engineer shook his head, but he was _grinning. _Ah, he was glad to be of help.

"I'll make some calls. We may be able to leave in the next three days. Three days!" He jumped down the coach. "I've lots to do before we go. Get to the bay every now and then, eh?"

"Sure, my friend."

He was by the door when he stopped and came back to the couch.

"Actually, I came to see you because I've sent you a bunch of files and almost forgot," Torb's grin changed into a sort of know-it-all smirk. "You need to stop sending me things when you're on painkillers. I'm scared next time they won't be safe for work."

Oh dear.

"Go on, open them up. I've got lots to do!"

Reinhardt connected his wrist datapad to the screen. His inbox flashed slightly to announce an unread item, and he rubbed the back of his neck. Another horrible side-effect of painkillers was that he could not remember much of a quite long period of time- or, if he did, all his memories were blurry and dream-like.

He opened up his mail item. The screen divided itself to display ten thumbnails- and he stopped breathing.

There was him flexing his first armour ever, which was not even finished yet. Balderich and him at the tavern. A long shot of Eichenwalde with their whole team once the German army had conceded them their official status.

He could not register the rest because the world blurred up.

"Come on! You've not even taken the painkillers yet!" The engineer laughed, patting him on the good knee. "I must confess Captain Idiot made me remember these may still be in my inbox. We may have to redeem him, after all."

Reinhardt grabbed him in a bear hug. He could not ask for a better friend, indeed.


	8. The First Years, Jun 2049

It was late. Late enough for Reinhardt to be hungry after flying across Europe, and late enough for the canteen to be _closed _. To say that he was disappointed was an understatement; he had been dreaming of getting a good meal after two weeks of going hungry. Torb's wife, Ingrid, had tried her best to keep him well-fed, but he had declined politely all her attempts to smuggle more food into his plate. After all, they had traveled to Sweden to help them, their neighbors, and their rampaged city as much as they could, and he was not going to eat through their meager provisions.

Any other time, he would have emergency supplies stashed in his cabinets; biscuits, chips- anything that would last and was easy to smuggle, but he had not even started to make his new quarters his own, yet.

He rubbed his rumbling stomach with both hands and sighed. Ah, well. He would survive one more night- hopefully, by dreaming of _kalbsschnitzel _with _rosti _and _emmentaler apfelrösti _for desert. That was the best part of being stationed at Switzerland; food always reminded him of home.

As he was walking back to the dormitory wing, still thinking about mouth-watering Swiss-German food, someone called his name across the corridor.

Gabriel walked towards him with the half-smile of the cat that ate the cream. He stopped by his side, hands on hips. There were several thin scars crossing his right cheek and nose but, other than that, nobody could ever tell he had almost died a month ago.

"I see the holidays did you good," he said, clapping Reinhardt in the arm. "How's the leg?"

"Ah, it'll be better than new in no time," he puffed his chest. They have been in contact via secure comms while in Sweden, so Gabriel knew most of the details already. "Need to pass a couple of tests to be cleared for work, but nothing major."

What Reinhard had omitted was that one of those tests was with their counseling team. They had very politely requested him to set up a series of appointments that same week and, oh, boy. He was truly not looking forward to that.

At least, his leg was better. The Swedish hospital's good doctors made two little incisions in his knee to poke here and adjust that, and it had been way less painful since. The moment he managed to work through his physiotherapy exercises, everything started to get better. Not to say that feeling helpful in Sweden really helped his mood and nightmares.

Of course, he could not jump, or run, or even walk very fast just yet, but he was lucky -_ very lucky _\- that Overwatch could use nanites to speed his recovery; during his brief visit to the hospital, the doctors told him that the prognosis of an injury like his was more than six months until full recovery, and he would make it in barely two.

Six months. He would have gone nuts.

"In no time, right?" Gabriel asked. "I hope so. We got some very useful intel from the hacker," his face soured, "but we cannot get past a certain door."

"What do you mean, get past a door?" Reinhardt asked, changing weight from one leg to the other. Sure, he may not need crutches to walk anymore, but standing up made him ache- and standing up for a long time resulted in cramping muscles. "Have you tried ducking? I need to do it all the time!"

"It's not that kind of door," he snorted, almost laughing. "Ah, but you know some engineering stuff, don't you? Actually, could you go to the holoroom and see if you can lend a hand?"

That was not what he was expecting to hear after roughly one hour of being back at Headquarters, but it was an honour that their Commander asked for his help. Besides, keeping himself busy would take his mind away from his hunger.

"Of course, my friend. Happy to help, if I can."

"Great. Ah, by the way. I've been reviewing several alternatives to rebuild Gibraltar's base. I'd like a word with you tomorrow about weak spots and your overall experience there to make it to last this time."

_This time. _Reinhardt's smile withered as the memories of the lost place bit him, but he nodded while half-consciously making fists. It was a great opportunity to right a wrong and honour the fallen.

"Sure! We'll make it unbreakable!"

"Thanks, man. Talk tomorrow, then. And great beard, by the way," Gabriel chuckled, pointing at him briefly before leaving.

Reinhardt puffed his chest, pleased. Ingrid had had enough of his scruffy looks on the second day he was lodged at their place. He had to admit that he had been scared shitless when she appeared in front of him armed with a pair of scissors and a razor, but he could not be more grateful that she did. She had taken great care in trimming his hair so it was stylish yet comfortable when he wore the armour's helmet- and she also fixed his beard at the same time.

The style was so different from his usual grooming that he could not recognize himself in a mirror at first, but it had been a good start on the road of feeling better than a rug, actually.

Plus, he had always liked beards with bushy chops.

Ah, he missed Torb and his family already. Those two weeks had really done him good, even if they had been challenging and exhausting. The twins were Fareeha's age and, despite the war, it was impossible not to cheer up when seeing their antics.

No wonder Torbjörn was always moaning about never going home. If Reinhardt had a lovely family like his, he also would. They would need to invent some other excuse to get back before the year ended, he thought, turning to his right and arriving at the training wing.

The virtual reality facilities were not one of the biggest departments at the Headquarters, yet it was one of the most secure one. At the door, Reinhardt had to provide his surname and rank to the computer, which then matched his voice against its database. When the first two lights went green, he looked into a small screen-or better, he aimed his bad eye at it and hoped it would work.

After a couple of tries, the door opened with a clunk noise, and he went inside, his hand touching the smooth, cold wall.

The room held twenty rigs hooked to the large, cylindrical computer in the center. The first time Reinhardt walked down the corridor, he looked in awe to the claw-like supports that held soldiers while training over a mobile platform. Things in Germany were much more old-fashioned and physical -something he always favoured- but he had to admit that being able to reenact past missions or learn the disposition of a building was quite handy.

The light was dim, which was a sign that there was a session in progress-but the rigs around him were empty and he could not see anyone. He stopped, hands on hips. He was not going to walk around for nothing.

"Hello?" He called, loud enough to make his voice echo in the room. Even if they had the virtual reality headset on, they should be able to hear him. "Anyone home? Aha! I see you, my friend," he chuckled when a hand popped over the rigs; he was the best at finding people.

The groan that came with the hand was one he knew well, and he almost, _almost _, decided to walk away- but he was in a good mood, just returned, and he could take on anything. Besides, Gabriel had asked him to help- and help he would to the best of his ability.

"I wasn't expecting you around this late, Captain," he said, walking towards her. Actually, she always dedicated her nights to Fareeha, so what they were doing must be something really important. "Don't worry, I've-"

"Why are you back so early? I wasn't expecting you for another week."

Ana was dressed in one of the special suits that allowed the computer to mimic most sensations experienced in the virtual reality world, her long raven hair cascading over her shoulders. Her headset was engaged, so she could not see him and, by the way she was holding herself, she seemed to be trying to handle something.

"I've just arrived," he said. "I thought Torb could use some time alone with his family. As grateful as I am, they had pampered me long enough."

She did not answer that, and he tried not to feel disappointed. He had not been expecting a welcome party, but even Overwatch's stray cat had been happier to see him. Ingrid, bless her, said he needed to be patient, that Ana just needed to remember why they were friends for everything to fit together again- but, truth was, he sucked at being patient. He just wanted to be able to have a laugh with her again, _now _.

He rubbed the back of his neck and turned around, finding the room empty but for the two of them.

"Where's everyone, anyway?"

"Everyone?"

"Gabriel said-" Reinhardt stopped immediately when he heard her long, exasperated sigh. He raised his hands asking for peace even if she could not see them. "Of course, I can go away and, ah, let you get on with whatever you were doing, if you don't require any assistance."

There was a moment of silence after which she put a hand on her hip.

"Easy- I want to kill him, not you."

"Maybe you can invent different growls for us, then. That'd help," he frowned, and she chuckled under her breath. "What?"

"You may be onto something, there. I'll think about it before as I go to bed."

"You don't need me, then?" Reinhard held his weight on his left leg, putting a hand on the opposite hip to balance himself. He was starting to get really hungry, and he rather go to sleep before chewing on some of the furniture became a bit too tempting.

Ana's hands were over her headset, and she was probably ready to give the computer the order to disengage when she stopped. Without seeing her face completely, he had no chance to guess what she was thinking about but, suddenly, she dropped her hands.

"I can stay a bit longer, provided you can get in the rig," she said at last.

"Of course I can!"

"Oh, really? How's the leg?"

In other circumstances he would have had gone into detail, but it did not feel like she really wanted to know- not even the short version.

"I'm good," he put his hands on her slender shoulders, slowly, so she would not get startled. "No crutches, see?"

"No crutches, but…?" She cocked her head, waiting, and he let her go. He always thought her superpowers only worked when she had eye-contact with her victim but, apparently, they went beyond that. "I guess no running, jumping, or kneeling. Anything else?"

He was impressed. And scared.

"I cannot stay on my feet for too long, yet."

"Let's use that time wisely, then," Ana snorted, but there was an enigmatic, if slight smile. "Go. I asked facilities to put a suit in your locker. I'll move to the rig that's next to yours while you get changed."

Well. That was the best, most civilized conversation they have had in ages. It was a start.

It was three years since Reinhardt had opened that locker but, somehow, it felt like yesterday. Even if this was a newer model suit, the outfit was still plain grey. It had sensors across the body and limbs to ensure the computer could send accurate readings of enemy fire, if required- and it was as skin-tight as the one he used under his armour.

He hissed when the fabric rubbed against the tattoo he had done on his right shoulder blade less than a week ago; it was bothering him more now it was healing than when the artist was actually doing it- but then, the half bottle of whiskey he had drunk while at the salon may have helped.

Deciding on the tattoo had been easy after reflecting on the past weeks. What had happened at Gibraltar had been nothing but a tragedy, but it had hardened his resolve to help Overwatch prevail against the Omnics. They had to make the difference because, if them soldiers were struggling, what hope did innocent families like Torb's have?

No, he would not let them down. That was a promise. But he would need help to keep his resolve in the dark days to come. Something to anchor him to his oath, his commitment, something that gave him strength when his own faltered- and nothing suited that purpose better than the crest of the Crusaders.

Honour. Glory. _Justice _.

Even if he would always treasure the memory, he did not need his gryphon armour to remember his people, or to show others who he was. _Our legacies are our deeds _, Balderich told him once and -surprise- he was right.

It was time he started working harder.

Reinhardt rolled his shoulders, trying to calm the itching on his back and flexed his arms, tightening the muscles in his shoulders and chest. The suit felt _tighter _than he remembered-and he chuckled. Despite the last shitty month where he had not exercised and had barely eaten half of what he was used to, his workout routine in Gibraltar was still showing. Good.

Now, he just had to get a couple of good meals in him and hit the gym again. He would make his friends proud.

"Lead the way, Captain," he called as he walked away from the lockers, his voice echoed again in the room. "I don't remember which one was my rig."

"Good Lord, stop it before I end up as deaf as a brick. I'm to your right."

Ah, now it was all coming back. Torb had reinforced the supports on one rig so they would hold his weight in low-gravity situations; flying, or jumping from ships. Its anchors looked bigger, sturdier, _stronger _; just like the anchors of all of them should be, if anyone asked him. He got on the platform-a sort of conveyor belt that would allow him to move on the virtual world without actually going anywhere- and hooked the cables and cords to the different ports on the suit. Once that was done, it was only the headset left. It felt as if half a helmet was strapped to his face, hugging the back of his head with more sensors to track his movement with accuracy.

It was not the most comfortable garment ever but, if he charged a wall to help Ana years ago, he could definitely wear it for a while.

_Welcome, Lieutenant, _a computer voice chimed in his comm device. The claw-like anchors strapped themselves to his midsection, clicking in place to the suit, and the computer pulled him up a good five feet to move him in all directions, testing that the rig was in optimum condition before starting.

The virtual reality headset engaged the moment the test stopped, filling his vision with blackness for a moment, then fading gradually to wherever place was loaded on the computer.

His feet touched the ground the moment the transition was complete, Reinhardt looked around. He was inside a massive building with grid floors. Industrial, not exactly taken care of. Everything had a strange _orange _feeling; it could be the lightning or just rust accumulating virtually everywhere. Maybe both.

There was a staircase going down to his side, and the grid under his feet let him see through to the floor below- he seemed to be atop some sort of tower from where he could not see the actual ground. In front of him, Ana's avatar was kneeling by a cylindrical structure that resembled a boiler of some sorts.

The computer had a model of each of their faces that was taken the first time they used the holoroom. Rendering hair was not exactly something the program did well, and so her avatar had it strapped in a low ponytail that was practically glued to her back. He had checked his own avatar the first time he used the training room, and he had been cringing for days afterwards. Maybe his short hair would fare better, though. He would have to update it next time.

Their bodies, at least, were adjusted each and every session based on the readings of the sensors, and the feeling of height and weight was quite accurate.

"Took you long enough," she teased. "Come here, want to show you something."

Reinhardt did as instructed, but he could not help but keep looking around. The scenario was strangely soundless. Perhaps the hacker had forgotten to add audio. Or perhaps it was quite loud and they turned it off, he thought, realizing there were conveyor belts several feet over their heads carrying- _oh shit _.

"Is this an omnium?" He gasped, watching bastion pieces getting picked up by robotic hands and deposited them on a different belt.

"The one in France, apparently. Our next target."

"Do we have the whole layout?" He looked around, mesmerized by the belts, cranes, and lasers soldering pieces above them. "This is amazing! I want to see it all! How big is it, anyway? Ah, you must show it to Torb. He would love it!"

"You mean he would hate it."

He frowned for a moment, considering her words. Yes, she was right. He would be able to see his technology everywhere, and that would really piss him off.

"But," he raised a finger, "if he can see how the different models are built, or where, he may get an idea of how better to destroy them! _That _would make him happy."

"Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves, now. Unlike others, I've not been on holidays-" she patted him in the arm. "I'd like to get this sorted if we can, and then go to sleep."

"Of course, sorry," he chuckled, but lowered his head. "How can I better help you?"

"We believe this is the key to open a section of the omnium that we have not seen before." Ana removed a plate covering part of the cylindrical structure in front of them. "Don't ask me how we know that, it's taken us two weeks to reach this far- I'm not explaining it in three minutes."

"But, how can a lock get placed on the building layout? I mean…" He stopped talking to look at what was under the cover, and he raised his eyebrows. There were a number of thick grey cables, several dented gears and a camshaft. "This _whatever _the hacker has provided, is not like the simulations we use."

Sure, their usual simulations were greatly detailed- doors opened and closed, control panels were all where they should be, just like plants, trees, chairs… but they had no logic imbued inside. Elevators did not work, nor did the traffic lights or any other thing that actually interacted with the world.

At least, not if they were not programmed for it.

"No, it's not," her voice was tense, something that was probably showing in her face but that her avatar was not able to convey. "I wonder how he got this in the first place. Makes me think we are walking into of a trap of some sort."

"A trap," he gasped. "You think he may be an Omnic? A God program? Wait. But your brother-"

"He's not my brother," she sighed. "And if he's ratted us, I'll personally cut off his nuts."

Aha. So Captain Silly was Fareeha's dad, just as he suspected. He snorted, smirking, and crossed his arms. The poor bastard had it even worse than he did, even if that was cold comfort.

"Come back to Earth," she pushed him. "You know what to do with this, or do I go to bed?"

"What is the actual problem, again?" He asked, and he swore he could feel her glare even if her avatar barely blinked. "I mean, is there a button that does nothing, or…?"

"Ah, yes," she reached out for a big red button, the only one that was there, and suddenly the gears started moving. It was so strange they did not sound and, he blinked on purpose to make sure he was not dreaming. He pushed the cables to one side, trying to see what else was there in that cramped space.

"So?"

Reinhardt was not good at this. Not at all. He had _an idea _of how to fix part of his armour but, beyond that, he could only use his imagination- and it was full of tales and stories, and not precisely about great engineers.

The cams went up and down, and the hand he raised to rub his forehead ended hitting the headset instead. What was that Balderich used to say while they were prototyping the armour? The fewer moving parts, the better? Actually, maybe he should ensure everything was moving, for starters.

The thick grey cables were still too much in the way, so he pushed them with a forearm while he counted the cogs. Two to the left. One down. Three more to the right that were practically embedded on a plate, and there was something down and right to the camshaft that did not seem to be moving. It was dented and roundish, so it seemed to be a small cog. If only he could find out what it should connect to-

"Ow, shit!" He yelped and shook his hand when he felt an electric jolt up from his hand to his elbow. He may not be able to get his real fingers caught on the mechanism, but the suit would inform him when his virtual ones did.

"Lucky you, we configured the room on the lowest settings," Ana chuckled. "The first time I tried messing around with it, my arm was numb up to my shoulder."

"_ Ja _, lucky me…" Reinhardt frowned, but got his arm back inside the gap, using the plated wall as a reference to retrace his way back. What was also very, very inconvenient was that he had to bend all the way to reach the gears, and that was killing his back- all, to avoid bending his knees.

"So, did you find anything interesting?"

"Maybe," he prodded around and growled at the current running through this fingers again. Without illumination and in such small space it was absurdly difficult to find what should move the little cog, but he could swear his fingertips could touch a shaft. If this was a real machine, he would disarm the whole plating and be done with it. But being virtual, they either programmed it away, or he kept bending awkwardly until he got lucky.

He grunted at the umpteenth jolt and lowered himself to one knee to give his arm better reach. That was quite a bad idea, but it was just a moment-a well-used one. Reinhardt grinned. There was a loose cog lying by the shaft, jumping slowly with the shaft's motion. Of course, if there would have had any sound he may have heard there was something loose, but who needed to play in easy mode, anyway?

The little cog fitted in once he could get it to mesh with the teeth of the immobile cog, and he got up again, taking his arm out and flexing it straight away.

"Well, that was easy! Let's just see if-" The cambelt where he was sitting on, the one that was part of the rig and that allowed free movement when walking, started rumbling and trembling. "Is this supposed to happen?"

Ana was on her feet before he finished asking, looking around.

"I don't know what's-"

The virtual ground went down, and they with it. The claw-like arm on the rig pulled Reinhardt up and he oofed at the sudden squeezing of his ribs. He looked at the belts over his head, the bastions parts getting smaller and smaller as he fell along with Ana. The orangeish walls seemed to have no end- but they eventually did. And when the staircase rebounded at the end of the drop, soundlessly, he braced for impact instinctively.

And what a good thing he did.

The rig, which was designed to provide its user with a _safe _virtual reality experience, dropped him from its maximum vertical height of five feet. That was nothing compared to the drop in the virtual world, nor it was anything that would have faced him in other circumstances- yet it was far more than his leg needed to start hurting like hell.

His knee gave out on impact and, unable to absorb the energy of the drop, Reinhardt fell straight on it again; the claw strapped to his midsection stopping him from free-falling to a side or on to his face.

"Computer, keep the session but disengage us," he heard Ana say as he shifted to a sitting position, holding his leg with both hands as if to stop it from splitting in two; his bones had turned into white hot nails from the knee all the way down his ankle. The pain was receding already, but all he wanted to do was limp up to a comfy place where he could stretch. And ice. And an ice pack would be really, really appreciated.

"_ Unauthorized _," the computer-lady chimed in.

"What do you mean, unauthorized?" He growled.

"Computer, disengage us _now _," Ana tried again, her avatar looking up.

"_ Unauthorized _."

Reinhardt could hear Ana's grumbling under her breath before her avatar knelt by his side.

"I'm sorry. I think we may have hit the trap," her hands hovered over his for a moment before making contact. "First the rig dropped us down like that, and now it doesn't let us go offline."

"Ah, screw this thing. I'm going to rip it off-"

"Wait," Ana squeezed her hands slightly. "That will trigger the emergency shutdown of the whole room. I'll get you out, but I want to stay in, see where we are. Advance."

"But it may be dangerous," he frowned, then shook his head. No way he was leaving her in a trap. Not on a thousand years. "I'll stay with you. Leg will be fine, just give me a moment."

She stood up. The avatar would never be as graceful as she was, yet it mimicked the way she arched her back perfectly.

"Computer, disengage the Lieutenant-"

"Captain, stop-"

"- override protocol AH892-JUGR00."

The claw around Reinhard's midsection opened up, and his headset went black. He took it away and ran a hand over his face. Shit.

"What if there's another trap?" He said, frowning. He got no answer. "Would you at least let me know, so I can get there with you again?"

There was still no answer, and he let go a frustrated huff. Why in the world would she just stop talking to him now? Reinhardt frowned and looked to his side. Her rig was the next to the right. She was there, standing up but not moving. Not moving _at all _.

He scrambled up using the rig's structure to keep his balance. Pain shot down his shin as soon as he put weight on his leg, but that did not stop him from hobbling towards her.

"Captain?" He called, eye scanning her. She seemed to be carved in rock- hands making claws, mouth open in a silent gasp, the legs spread apart so slightly. She did not answer. Did not acknowledge him.

Screw the program and the room, and the Omnics as a whole.

The belt whined at the weight of both of them combined, but it held. He grabbed the cables on her headset and ripped them off in a harmless rain of sparks.

The room lights popped into life and the arm attached to Ana's midsection retracted with a soft humming noise. She dropped like a rag doll, hair flowing after her as she fell, and Reinhardt caught her before she hit the ground. Her dark skin was pale, clammy, but she was breathing.

What had just happened? What had the computer done to her? He did not trust the room enough to call anyone; he would have to walk out, try his luck at the corridor- provided the whole base had not been hacked.

Cradling her in his arms, Reinhardt limped past a couple of rigs before he had to stop for a moment for a stretch. Bearing weight was a struggle, but possible nevertheless, which probably meant he was just half-screwed.

He was almost at the door when Ana took a big gulp of air and flailed, punching and kicking in all directions to get herself free.

"It's ok, Captain_ , _" he said, but she growled like a feral animal trying to escape. Her fingers dug into his neck, her knees pushed against his chest as her back arched away from him. He tried to restrain her using his huge hands to his advantage, but she was swift and nimble- managed to connect one of her elbows to his face, which made him take a step back onto his bad leg.

He yelped and tumbled backward, trying to regain his footing while Ana crawled over him and tried to jump over his shoulder. His back found a wall when he was sure they were going to end sprawled on the floor, and he had to pull her by her suit to stop her from hitting the wall head-first.

"Stop, _maus _, you'll hurt yourself," he held her tight against his chest and yet she still struggled, groaned, and trembled- it broke his heart to see her like this, but he did not _dare _to let her go. If only she would stop struggling, he could actually took her to the Med- "Ow! No biting," he whined, pressing his head against hers. "You're safe, I won't hurt you. Please, settle down-"

The words died in Reinhardt's throat as his calf tensed painfully. He rebalanced his weight and leaned the back of his head against the wall. A moment. Just a moment. That was all he needed to stretch his leg and stop it from cramping worse than it was- and that was also what Ana needed to headbutt him in the jaw.

His teeth crashed together, missing his tongue by a hair's breadth and, with only one leg to support him, the motion threw him off balance. Reinhardt tried to grab the wall on instinct, allowing her to scurry away from his grasp. Or _almost _, since he was still grasping one of her wrists. His weight pulled her over him, and he grabbed her in a bear-hug as his back hit the ground.

One of her arms was free, though, and it took her a second to launch her hand straight at his face. Her nails were short, thankfully, yet they scratched at his eye before he rolled on his side and pinned her to the ground with a submission hold. His thighs held her legs in place, and with a forearm he was forcing one arm and her torso to the ground. He had taken care to get his bad leg under her so, even if it was giving him hell, he was not going to move.

Ana trashed and huffed. Her free hand reached out as a claw, trying to hold onto something, and he just had to apply some pressure to the arm lock to make her cry out. He could very easily dislocate her shoulder in that position.

"Don't make me do this," he applied a bit more of strength and her nails scratched the ground weakly. "Please."

She groaned in pain and hid her face in the ground. So much strength in such small body. So much will, and fierceness. He already knew Ana was unique among hundreds of thousands, but he was impressed. And mildly aroused. He knew that was the adrenaline of fighting but, if she was anything like this in the bedroom- wow. Captain Stupid sure was the biggest of fools.

Ana seemed to have calmed down after a couple of minutes, but she was a very capable fighter. If he was not careful, she could get away again and, unlike him, she did not have any qualms in maiming-

A sob made her whole body tremble under his, and he raised his eyebrows.

"Captain?" He tried, and let go a relieved breath when he heard a muffled _sorry _coming from her. He let go the arm hold, and she choked on another sob and hid her head in her arms.

"It's fine. Glad you're back," Reinhardt let her go, and she curled in herself as much as she could. He shifted to a sitting position while rubbing his aching leg. The knee had taken the brunt of the fall, yet he felt more pain down the shin-maybe because he had crash-landed just like in Gibraltar.

A hiccup coming from her made him bit inside his mouth. He wanted to hold Ana, comfort her, but she might freak out again and try to, well, kill him. She may also hate him big time for touching her, and their frail relationship may never recover from it.

Ah, but she was so miserable…

Screw it.

He scooped her up with ease and deposited her on his lap, keeping her curled between his arms and his chest. She hid her face on her hands, her body shaking with each sob, and Reinhardt pressed his cheek to the top of her head.

_C'mon, she needs you. Say something. Anything! _

"Bad's gone, now," he said in a low voice. Her soft hair smelled of pines and mint, and he could not help but swallow. He had dreamed of having her in his arms plenty of times, but his imagination did not do reality justice. Not by a long shot. "You did well, Captain. Put up a good fight, too! We, ah, should spar sometime, eh?"

She looked up, tears flowing down her cheeks, and her breath caught for a moment. Her hand touched his scratched eye, the bloodied lip he did not even remember getting, and then she threw her arms around his neck.

He forgot how to breathe.

"I wanted to kill you," she said in a hoarse voice. "I wanted to gouge your eyes out and break your neck with my hands-"

"N-not your fault," Reinhardt stammered, pressing her closer to him. Oh, boy. She had never hugged him back- _never _. She was so warm. So small against him… He caressed the back of her head softly, as if she could turn to smoke without notice, hoping she could not feel his heart hammering on his chest. "You won't- I mean, you are a good person, Captain. Wouldn't do this on purpose, not even to me," he squeezed her, cherishing the feeling of closeness, burning it in his mind. "However… you may have some nuts to cut."

Ana laughed and sobbed at the same time, her fingers scratching his back -_ ow _, the tattoo-, and he leaned his head on hers again. She snuggled her face on his shoulder, and feeling her warm breath on his bare neck made Reinhardt melt into a pool of bliss. She cared about him, after all. Despite all her growling and glaring, and despite her silences, there was still a chance she would be his friend.

_His friend _.

The blissful feeling turned into a dagger through his chest, and he could not help but squeeze her against him.

After a while, one of Ana's hands ran through his short hair, and she pushed herself back to look at him with a little frown. It was only then that he noticed.

"Your eye," Reinhardt cupped her face softly to move her head to the side and look at her better. The iris was completely dark instead of golden. "How had I missed it before? Do you- Can you see anything? Damn. Let's get you to the Med bay."

"It's fine," she put a hand over his to take it away, then dried her eyes with her fingers. She seemed more composed now, and so he let her go. Her small fingers squeezed his arm in thanks, and she lowered herself to the ground by his side. "It's a cornea implant. It just itches a bit, and can be fixed."

"But we should really go. Get you checked."

"I know, but Gabriel is going to kill me," she sighed, lowering her head and raising her knees against her chest. "I may have-"

"He is indeed!" A voice growled over a sudden clacking noise- the sound of several weapons being cocked. Ana got on her feet effortlessly and Reinhardt scrambled up, gritting his teeth when his leg refused to bend. When he managed to straighten up at last, he found Gabriel and a bunch of soldiers aiming at them. "You have two seconds to show me you're not compromised," the Commander growled. "One-"

"It's all my fault," Ana walked in front of the Commander before Reinhardt could stop her, hands up. "Sorry."

"_ Sorry _won't cut it at the UN board," he lowered his semi-automatic pistols and the soldiers behind him stood down, too. "Get changed right now, and go to Med bay. I'll see if there's anything else I need to fix before I meet you there."

Reinhardt closed the door to the doctor's office and limped towards Gabriel, leaning on the wall for support. His leg did not hurt even a fraction of how it had before he left for Sweden, but it did not just ache, either- and, now that the swelling had settled in, it was not exactly fun to walk.

The x-rays had come up clean despite the pain in his shin, and the doctor had explained that nanites were not miracle workers. The leg was still recovering from the very complex fracture _and _knee surgery, and a rough landing like that would have upset every healing tissue from the thigh to the ankle. She had soaked a cohesive bandage in some sort of nanite-food gel before applying it to all the length of his shin but, since the knee felt stable, she had not immobilized it. The compression knee bandage he was already wearing should help with the swelling, and there should be nothing to worry about as long as he rested the leg. That was something he could deal with, even if it meant yet more boring time in the Rover room. _Ugh _.

"Hey, man," the Commander greeted him without turning around. "How was it?"

"It seems I'll be a couch potato for yet another week," he said, sitting on a bench by his side. He activated the cold pack the doctor gave him with a couple of shakes and put it on his knee over his cargo trousers. "No news about the Captain, yet?"

He shook his head, pacing in front of the door behind where Ana was. Tense. Angry.

"I was wondering…" He continued because, really, he had not had the chance to speak with him yet and he had indeed been wondering while the doctor was checking up on him. "How did you know to come by?"

"You think anyone can use my override code and I won't know?" Gabriel grumbled, looking at him askance. "I'll strangle Jack for giving it to Ana. If we hadn't designed that room to be outside the main computer grid, we'd been completely screwed up."

"But I don't understand how the code managed to-"

"She basically gave the hack control over the whole room-the _whole _room. Do you know how powerful that computer is? What can it do?" He turned to look at him, and shook his head. "Obviously not. Nor did she, apparently." Gabriel seemed disappointed, now. "It accessed her brain by using her corneal implant." He must have seen the question on Reinhardt's face, for he sat down by his side and continued. "She's a fantastic sharpshooter, of course she is. Yet the implant was the only condition she put on joining Overwatch."

Reinhardt rubbed his right thigh absentmindedly while looking at the closed door. He had no idea she had an aiming aid, nor how it even worked. Since it was important to her, he was glad that the doctors could fix it- probably replacing it with a new implant, somehow. Eww. He would rather not have anyone meddling with his bad eye, thankyouverymuch. With his luck, they would give him a red eye like in that shitty old film Balderich liked so much about the robot that came from the future to kill someone or other.

"And thank God we use a VR room instead of a training room with robots, or we would have had a little army of murderous omnics at home," Gabriel kept going, leaning his head on his hands. "Whoever planted the hack there, didn't have enough intel about us. That's the only good news."

"The Captain said she was worried there may be a trap."

"Yeah, we talked about that, but couldn't think of anything specific. Of course, I couldn't have imagined she would override the room's security system. Argh, cheer me up," he pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. "Tell me you guys are friends already."

"I wish I could be certain, but…" Reinhardt trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't have the best record on understanding her, you know..."

"Ah, yes, she's a daunting woman," Gabriel sighed. "I admire your efforts, but I'd rather look for someone like Jack. Straightforward and loyal as there is."

"Now, that's-" Reinhardt stopped talking and looked at him, eyebrows raised and head cocked. "Wait. You like Jack?"

"What?" The Commander's eyes went wide open and he jumped off the chair. "I didn't say that! I meant look for someone with-"

Reinhardt's laughter boomed down the corridor, fueled by Gabriel's increasingly outraged stance. If his skin was paler, he sure would be cherry-red by now.

"I don't- STOP LAUGHING you goddamn OAF!"

"Don't worry, my friend," he dried his eyes with a hand. "Your secret is safe with me!"

"There's no secret-"

The door they were guarding opened up, and one of the doctors stepped outside, clearing his throat and glaring at them.

"Apologies," Gabriel lowered his head, still glowering, embarrassed, and hating Reinhardt with all his body language, which was very amusing. "Is the surgery done?"

"Indeed," the doctor, a middle-aged man with roundish glasses called Evans, said. "She's alright. We have not detected any anomaly or damage to her brain, but I suggest we keep her monitored for a week, see if there are any changes."

"Good. Thanks, doc. Can we visit her?"

"Sure. Five minutes, and you can come in."

The Commander sat down by Reinhardt's side once the door closed, and punched him in the shoulder, _hard. _

"Bloody bastard. Here I was, worrying about you, and all I get is teasing."

"You _do _sound like Jack, now," he snorted, half-smiling. "Does he know, by the way?"

"Reinhardt, I've no qualms about beating the shit out a disabled jerk. Just so you know. Also, I'll visit Ana first, screw you."

"Ah, stop being a grump," he grabbed him in a side-hug. "She's fine, and we know how to get deeper into the omnium, now- though I won't repeat the experience, if you don't mind…"

The door opened up again, and a handful of doctors and nurses went out. Gabriel got up, and took a deep breath.

"I expect a full report about the omnium tomorrow _in writing _," he said, pointing at Reinhardt. "And stop with the puppy eyes. I'm not looking. Not looking at all," he gave him both the back and the finger, and walked inside Ana's room.

Reinhardt looked up when the door opened again, and watched Gabriel's straight face draw a grin. It was an _evil _sort of grin but, after knowing him for years, he had concluded it was the only way the man could smile.

"Get in there. And don't screw up this time," he cackled, walking down the corridor and not stopping by his side at all. "And remember the report!"

The report, yes. He had been thinking about that. Had even been tempted to record an audio version on his wrist datapad, but he found a better way to entertain himself while waiting.

He got up by leaning on the wall, straightening the stiff knee slowly. The doctor was reticent to give him crutches so as not to impair his recovery time further, and he did not complain. He despised them already- and it was not like he was going to walk that much, anyway.

Ana let him in after he knocked, yet he looked inside for a moment before walking in. It was quite a small room, but it had a side-door that connected to one of the theaters, where they had surely done the surgery on her eye.

She was sitting on the bed, wearing a plain grey hospital gown over which her braided black hair stood out. A white patch covered her right eye, but there was no signs of discomfort in her face. He was glad of that.

"Coming in?" She cocked her head, and he made his way to the chair closest to the bed, where he flopped down. Ah, the only good side of his predicament was that he did not remember his empty stomach at all. "How's your leg?"

"Ah, it's-" he was going to say 'fine', but he could see in her raised eyebrow that she would not have it. "It's sore, but should be better in a week or so. But, what about you? Your eye?"

"The doctors will take the patch off tomorrow," she tucked a rebel lock behind her ear and smiled softly. "So, it's fine."

"I'm glad! I have to say I was a bit confused when Gabriel said it was an aim aid. Didn't you see well enough already?"

"Gabriel talks too much," her smile sharpened as she glared, but then she relaxed again somewhat. "I did see just fine. But I wanted to make sure that, when your lives depended on me, I would not miss the shot."

"Ah, that's commendable! Thank you."

She frowned, as if she was thinking how to retort to that, but she stayed silent instead. He hated those silences, because they always made him think she was uncomfortable talking to him somehow- so he searched in one of his pockets and produced a paper flower.

It was a bit scrunched now after sharing space with the now lukewarm cold pack, but he tweaked it here and there and left it on her lap. Ana took it on her hands; the Overwatch symbol was watermarked on every sheet the nurse could find for him, so it was colourful in a pale, strange way.

"You shouldn't have," she sighed, and bit her lower lip.

"Nonsense. It's the least I could do since you're here because of me again," he rubbed the back of his neck. "I would have brought you flowers, but, _again _, couldn't find a bouquet. It may be because I always search for them at unholy hours, but that's a different story..."

"Reinhardt," Ana squeezed his good knee, softly. "Do you mind if we have a chat now? I know it's quite late..."

"I always have time for you, Captain!" He smiled, and stretched his legs a bit to get more comfortable. In the past, they had spent afternoons together watching telly or just chatting- maybe they were on friendly terms again, after all! "What shall we talk about?"

"Actually, I have been thinking about what you said," she looked down, and her hands played absentmindedly with her braid. "About us being friends. And I don't know how to make it work."

Or maybe, he was totally misled.

"I don't understand- We just… talk? And laugh, and possibly have beer sometime?" Ana remained silent, and he continued, thinking that maybe he was not getting his point across. "We haven't seen each other much this month, but-"

"It's not that," she finally stopped him. After taking a deep breath, she looked him in the face. "I would like to be your friend, but I don't think you're over this- over me. And I don't want you to get hurt."

The room suddenly became really hot. As in, so hot, his cheeks were burning and he had to swallow before he could get some air. He was about to say something, but he could not find the words. The way her golden eye was piercing him made his brain fall back to German and forget every English word he thought he knew.

Reinhardt rubbed the back of his neck and looked down. He had never experienced this superpower of hers before, but it was as unfair as the mind-reading one. However, it was clear that the long day must have taken a toll on her, though, since- well. If she could really read his mind that well, she would have _known _.

Yes, of course he liked her and, of course, she… she was not interested in him. He had made his peace with that years ago. But she cared about him and she wanted to be his friend and, damn, that was more than he had hoped for in the past few years. It meant having her back, watching films, getting food, hanging out after missions, playing with Fareeha, squeezing her against his side for being so damn cute, making her laugh.

That meant _everything _to him.

"Only a fool would not like you, Captain," he said after a while, a small smile on his face even if the words felt heavy on his tongue. "But whether I get-" He swallowed. He had one chance to get this right. _One _chance. "What I mean is, I _know _."

Reinhardt leaned on the mattress and lowered himself on his knees, trying to keep himself from grimacing and completely ignoring Ana's alarmed remarks. Ah, he did not remember what _bad _was until his knee actually held his his three hundred plus pounds.

"Are you out of your mind?" She was actually kneeling on the mattress by his side, grabbing one of his arms in a panic, and he managed to half-smile.

"Fareeha always says I'm a knight," he said. His hands had found the bed frame and were squeezing it to death. "And as such, I swear on my honour, on my Crusader vows, that I will be your friend or anything else you want me to be."

"Whatever!" Ana was slapping his shoulder. "Just get up before you hurt yourself even more!"

Getting up felt impossible, so Reinhardt used one of his hands as an anchor to push himself to the side and sit down. He bumped into the nightstand, making the pitcher on top rock dangerously, and groaned in relief when he could take his weight off the leg at last. _Ow _, damn. He needed more ice. Like a bucket full.

"_ Ya Allah _! I don't know what to do with you anymore," she huffed, running her fingers over the bedding and leaving soft lines on it.

"Hopefully, watch some films with me while my leg gets better…"

"Damn it, Reinhardt! You just can't-" She stopped herself suddenly and rubbed her face. There was an overall feeling of sadness and defeat in the way her shoulders had slumped. It reminded him painfully of their attempt of having a conversation at the aircraft while they were returning from Gibraltar, and his later conversation with Torb.

Clearly, he had screwed up again without even realizing it. Shit.

"Apologies," he said quickly and lowered his head. "I was just trying to get my point across better… I, ah, never intended to worry you, neither now or when I fought the bastions. I promise to take better care of myself- starting, um, now?"

His words met a wall of silence. Ana was looking at him from above for a change, glaring even if her power was halved now she could only use one eye. He wondered if this was how the Roman gladiators felt while waiting for the Caesar to choose their fate- only to conclude it was worse. He rather face danger, bastions, and certain death than her scrutiny and silence.

Shit.

"Anyway, I, ah… Just wanted to say I would like to be your friend," he continued, leaning his arms on the mattress and his chin on his arms. He had stopped looking at her, if just because it made it easier to ignore the fact that she was thinking hard about them and probably hating every second of it. "But I will also limp away if you want me to. I just, well, hope you don't..."

Reinhardt could not help saying the last bit in a lower voice. He could well swallow his feelings and be her friend forever but, going back to being nothing but strangers while seeing her practically every day? He was not sure how he could cope with that.

Seconds stretched like years, and she was still silent, her eye boring a hole through him. Reinhardt bit inside his mouth, trying to be patient and not succumb to desperation, but the silence was grating on his nerves. He was contemplating the option of kneeling again, if only to keep his brain engaged in a different kind of pain, when Ana spoke.

"You say you would limp away, but you cannot even get up from there," she snorted softly, surprising him. That was not what he was expecting to hear, but she was not pushing him away just yet. By the time he looked at her again, she was already off the bed, kneeling by his side. "But I'm glad, actually."

"You're glad that I'm miserable and in pain at your feet?" He frowned a bit, half confused and half teasing her, but Ana paid him no attention. Instead, she rolled his trouser leg up enough to expose his new bandages. Her small fingers rubbed at the very edge of the bandage, softly, as she made a thin line with her lips.

"You're an idiot for kneeling like this, but I'm also to blame. I should have never let you get on the rig in the first place," she said, looking sad again.

"Captain-"

"It's Ana," she took a deep breath. "It's about time you stopped calling me that when we're not on duty."

Reinhardt gaped at her, frozen in place for an instant.

"Does that mean you're done hating me?" He asked in a thin voice, unable to believe his ears. "Sorry if it's a dumb question. I just don't know anymore."

A smile touched her lips, buts she did not answer. Instead, she felt his knee with nimble, careful fingers.

"Sitting on the ground like this would only make the swelling worse. Shall I call the nurse for help, or…?"

"It's ok, I've done this before. But," he frowned a bit, "would you tell me before my hair goes grey?"

"Get up, first."

And get up he would, even if it was the last thing he did.

Reinhard put both hands on the ground to use his arms for support. He had done this a handful of times already and knew how to work around his bad leg so it hurt as little as possible while pushing himself on the good one. Stil, when he sat down at the edge of the mattress after having bumped into the chair, the nightstand, and the bed itself, he was gritting his teeth.

"So…?" He asked after a moment, when the burning ache running all the way down his ankle had subsided. _Ow, _damn, really. He was not looking forward to hours and hours of being bored out of his mind again. Not when he had been that close to get back to the gym.

Ana sat on the bed, close to him but not enough so they could touch. Then, she curled her legs under herself with envidiable ease and sighed softly. She looked worn-out, the patch on her eye not helping.

"Do you promise to be honest with me if- if this friendship arrangement doesn't work?" She asked, playing with her lovely long braid.

That was a _yes _? God, It sounded like a _yes _! Reinhardt bit inside his mouth to stop himself from shouting out loud. Ah, he could not believe it! At last, she-

He closed his eyes for a moment, his hands grabbing the edge of the mattress and squeezing it. He would have hugged the air out of her, cuddled her against his chest and never let her go, but it could not be. Yet he felt relief, as if someone had taken a terrible weight off his chest.

"You know," he said after a moment, putting his best serious face. "I should kneel to make you such a promise."

Ana smacked him on the head so quickly he did not even have time to duck.

"I was joking, just joking…" He chuckled, and then he bowed down and made a gesture with his hand. "If anything ever prevents me from fulfilling my oath -which I doubt, but nevertheless- I swear I shall tell you, Ana."

Oh, bless. Her name rolling off his tongue was so sweet he could not help but let go a long, content, bittersweet sigh.

"I'm honoured to call you by your name. And double honoured to have your friendship again."

"Stop being an idiot, please," she said, her lips curving in a little smile. But then she snorted, and her smile grew until it lit up the whole room. It pierced straight through his chest, warming him up from head to toe and making him grin like- well. Like an idiot.

Screw his leg. Getting on the bloody rig had been worth it. More than worth it.

"Well then, I guess it's time to let you rest..." He got up slowly, thinking he better not use all his good luck in one go. "Hope we'll catch up soon?"

"Sure," Ana said, still playing with her braid.

He had barely limped to the door when her voice stopped him in his tracks.

"You must tell me what happened to you in Sweden. I can barely tell you and Torbjörn apart."

It was fortunate that he was holding on the door frame for support because, had she dropped a bucket of ice-cold water over his head, his blood would have frozen less than it did at that moment.

"What do you mean?" Reinhardt managed to blurt, running a hand through his hair and looking around to see if there was a mirror handy. He _did not _look like Torb. His hair was way softer and was easily styled, his beard had the perfect scruffy point. Not to talk about, well, how different the rest of them was.

Ana burst into laughter like he had not heard from her in ages. It was a lovely sound, there was no denying that, but now he really _needed _a mirror.

"Ah, Reinhardt," she said after a moment, drying her eye with the heel of a hand. "I didn't remember you tend to take things literally."

"How… else am I supposed to-"

"It actually looks nice," she interrupted him, her golden eye full of mirth. "And the beard suits you better."

"Oh," was the only thing he managed to say before bursting into relieved laughter. Yet, it took him a moment to realize she had just paid him a compliment. "_ Ah, danke schön- _" The room was very hot again, and her superpowers were _so, so unfair _! If he stayed any longer in the room, he sure would end up saying something really stupid. " _Gute, _uhm, night?"

Or trying to, at least.

"Good night, silly."


	9. The Middle Years (1), Nov 2052

Another day, another fight. That's what Ana kept on thinking every time the Strike Team got deployed, day or night. Just, this mission had started with the wrong foot after Gabriel threatened to throw Reinhardt off the plane if he did not shut the fuck up straight away.

The threat itself was nothing new but, the way he had said it today left no doubt; he was not joking this time. Which was odd.

Ana fixed a lock of hair behind her ear and nudged the blond Captain. He had been making plans with her about the mission for the past half an hour, reviewing strategies and possible places to perch where she could take the advantage. _ Again _.

"Jack."

He looked up from the datapad, blue eyes searching her face for clues about what was more important than the mission just then. When he seemed about to ask her, she leaned closer to him to whisper if there was something the matter with Gabriel.

Jack tapped the datapad screen to reveal a blank note. The fact that he would rather write than speak meant there was indeed, something going on.

"Nothing that I know of," he wrote, "Officially, at least. Gabe's not feeling well lately."

Ana felt a frown drawing on her face. Granted, if Overwatch had to wait for all of them to feel fine to be deployed, they would never leave the base, but it worried her that their Commander may be going down with something bad. She still remembered when Jack got sick last time and it took him a month to recover. Super-soldier ailments were the worst, apparently.

"Don't worry. Been keeping an eye on him," Jack typed, and nodded. "He's been working too hard."

Ah, yes, of course. The UN Council was being pushy about the omniums, as if destroying them was piece of cake and they did not have to plan their strategy for months. It was actually amazing how Gabriel could pull off so many ideas to ambush the Omnics and make their team run like clockwork. Ana considered herself not bad at the job, but their Commander had a sixth sense when it came to planning.

She looked at his frowny face, even if she could only see an ear and a bunch of short curls from where she was, and felt a surge of pride and unconditional affection she would never, ever, tell anyone about. When they were back to the base, she would call one of their movie nights. It felt like it had been too long since the last time they chilled doing nothing.

"We'll be there in five, stop gossiping already," Gabriel grumped, and Ana and Jack exchanged looks. The mission was going to be interesting.

The city of Carcassonne had seen better days. All of France, actually, had seen better days. After Overwatch destroyed the omnium at the centre of the country, it seemed like things could only get better, but the French army was understaffed and undergeared, and they could only cope with so many fronts at the same time.

They French said they would come to reinforce Overwatch's position in five hours, but it had been seven already and they had not even called, yet. The only good thing was that their position, the place civilians had retreated to, was the city's castle.

The battlements were still standing after so many years, made of solid stone and circled a large enclave of houses. There was a moat full of water around the castle just like in the old stories and perimeter alerts every other tower, so the team only had to focus on the main entrance while keeping an eye on the rest. The battlements doorway was no more, though, and the main entrance was now a stone bridge large enough to fit two lorries side by side. Could be better, but it was not horrible to defend, all things considered.

Besides, the Omnics had been coming in small waves from the destroyed outskirts, giving them plenty of time to regroup and even refresh themselves between skirmishes. Anything their front-line did not destroy straight away was efficiently taken care of by Ana and Jack. They were positioned in a balcony in front of the bridge, from where they could practically see everything that came their way.

"Twenty-two, here. And counting," Jack rested his rifle on his shoulder, and Ana snorted.

"Keep dreaming," she shook her head, giving him a side smile. "You'll never beat me."

"Cut the chit-chat," their Commander snapped on the comms, and they looked at each other. Then, he continued a moment later. "No bets among the team unless I start them."

Gabriel was joking. Sort of. But whatever was going on with him, it was bad. He had been pacing here and there, barely taking any shots, and letting the team to deal with the attacks while he looked at the distance from the battlements. He had also been silent most of the time, grunting a few orders here and there and relying in Jack and Ana mostly to group their soldiers.

It worried Ana that he was not fit for duty somewhat, but sure he would have stayed behind if that if he was _that _bad. Maybe he was just saving his energies for a bigger Omnic incursion. Maybe he was just worried or busy planning ahead, as he usually did. The UN council had been giving him a hard time lately, praising his accomplishments but not his methods.

To be fair, every time they had destroyed an omnium they had blown a big hole in the country- Unfortunately, blowing up nuclear reactors and Omnic plants always caused collateral damage, as much as they tried to contain the devastation. But, most of the times Gabriel only had to choose between saving his team or the adjacent buildings… and screw the buildings, really.

Ana took a shot far in the distance, then focused her efforts closer to their team. Reinhardt was at their front-line, as usual, but the comms were devoid of his natural liveliness. Any other time he would have pitched in with his own kill count, but the Crusader had frozen in place the moment they landed inside the castle walls. His cheerfulness gone in one fell swoop, she had not been able to get from him what was going on, no matter how much she had nudged him.

However, she stopped worrying much when he stood his ground at the battlement's main entrance while several soldiers used his barrier to destroy as many Omnics as possible on any wave. He prioritised the targets, kept an eye of any that could flank their barricade and informed the rest of the team of it so they could get dealt with- but he was merely standing and defending, barely engaging the Omnics even if, in Ana's opinion, they did not need his shield most of the time.

"Four Bastions coming our way. Five," he counted in a grave voice. "Damn. Make them around twenty. Two coming on the right, behind that pile of red bricks. Most of them coming straight to us. Get somewhere safe, barrier would drop in seconds if they use heavy rounds. Flank them instead."

Ana laid on the ground to make the smallest target possible, and looked over the Crusader's shoulder, waiting for any Bastion to pop by.

A tank shell dropped behind their front-line, raining dust and fire in the courtyard, and Reinhardt retreated from his position at the bridge.

"Where is the tank? Anyone? I can't spot it," he said, looking around while keeping his shield in place. Apparently, there was another way in that they had not discovered yet. Were the Omnics, maybe, planning to ambush them?

"I have visual, I'll take care of it," Gabriel said, jumping from the battlements to the roof of a house as if it was nothing.

The mostly-silent ruins exploded with machine-gun sounds. Fortunately, the Bastions were firing light shells, but Reinhardt's barrier would not keep them safe for much longer.

"Rocketeers!"

Their soldiers fired through the barrier, adding echoing explosions to the cacophony of nightmarish sounds, and Ana put on some music on her comms; instrumental music from films she had never seen. It was relaxing and packed with feelings- feelings of what, she was not sure. But keeping her brain engaged in something that was not shots and explosions helped her focus on her targets since Gibraltar.

The Crusader's barrier was already cracking when a tank shell exploded on it, making him take a couple of steps back.

"Tanks in priority, come on, people!" Ana said, adjusting the scope of her rifle. She could not blow a tank to pieces with a couple of shots, unfortunately, but spotting it would be a first step in the right direction.

Reinhardt's pained grunt made her reevaluate her priorities, though; a Bastion was shooting at their infantry from behind -_ where was Gabriel? _\- and the Crusader was trying to protect the soldiers keeping them between his barrier and himself. Not that the barrier was going to last much more, anyway.

While a particularly loud orchestrated song played on her earphones, Ana took a shot. Two. Three. The Bastion twitched, sparking, and did not move any longer.

"Thank you, Captain!" He said, and Ana smiled a bit. It was the first time he sounded genuinely happy in hours. Unfortunately, his happiness was short-lived. "Three tanks! Hide, now!"

The second he said was the second his barrier was absolutely annihilated. The impact made him skid backward and almost lose his footing. He retreated to get under cover, protecting his head from the bullets with an arm and yet trying to be as big as a target as he could while their soldiers scattered to a better position.

"I'll try to flank the tanks," Jack said, dropping from the balcony he shared with Ana to the street. "Reinhardt, keep them busy, all right?"

"Busy!" The German groaned, jumping behind the ruins of a house that was being destroyed as they spoke. "What have I been doing all day?"

"Keep them _busier _, then! Smack-them-down kind of busy!"

Reinhardt grumbled something in the comms that sounded a lot like he was eating gravel, and then let out a long breath.

"You'll have a very short window. Tell me when you're ready!"

That sounded like he had in mind something crazy, but Ana would worry about it when it happened. She had her hands full at the moment, taking shots whenever any Omnic tried to flank them and keeping tabs on everyone's location. Or almost everyone's.

"Gabriel, where are you?"

"Gone fishing," he replied with a snort, but his mic captured the sound of his shotguns. "Ambushing them from the side."

"Be careful. You're out of everyone's sight."

Ana could have ordered him to retreat but, at least, he was doing his part. She hated watching him pace like a caged animal as much as she hated the German's silent moods.

What was clear was that she could not leave them alone even for a _week _without shit hitting the fan. At least, this time she did not came back to find a whole wing of the HQ missing due to an _experiment _gone wrong, apparently, that caught both super soldiers on it.

Really.

She snorted, reloading her rifle again. With Jack gone, she alone had to ensure nobody flanked their front-line. They were busy enough trying to take down the sentry-mode Bastions covering the tanks as to worry about anyone else.

"Reinhardt, I'm ready!" Jack said in the comms. "Give me the signal."

"Roger!"

The Crusader jumped out of his hiding spot and deployed his barrier, which was instantly shattered to pieces by the next two tank shells. He did not seem to care, though. He took his hammer on both hands, raised it over his head, and smashed the ground with such strength Ana could hear it despite her music.

The road cracked several feet in front of him and then collapsed inwardly, pulling two of the Bastion tanks off their tracks.

Jack's rifle fired a rapid pulse of shots that destroyed one of them in no time. Hoping he would take care of the other, Ana was taking shots at the one that had escaped unscratched to disable it before it could shoot again- but Reinhardt charged it. Just, his positioning was off and he missed the wall for a couple of feet, crashing deep into the enemy lines.

Quickly, Ana put her rifle on her back and started climbing to the next balcony, where she would have a better view of the battleground ahead. It would have been super easy had she been a super-soldier, but everything was always hard-mode for her. She gritted her teeth and pushed herself up with her arms only, using the filigrees in the balcony to get a better grip and climb until she could find her footing.

"_ Lots _incoming, take cover!" Ana heard Reinhardt on the general comms, and she pushed herself up the final stretch. There was no joy in his voice, no thrill for battle. If she did not know him better, she would think he was absolutely terrified.

But that was _absurd _.

When she managed to get into position again, she saw the Crusader retreating under heavy Bastion fire, using everything he possibly could to hide and recharge his barrier. Two dozens of Bastions had just advanced, protected by their numbers, and had deployed themselves in sentry mode, raining bullets towards the Crusader and in their soldiers' general direction. Damn it, so the Omnics were really planning a big attack, and they had just been countering the scouts. Shit.

Shells started raining in the courtyard; mortar shells. They had brought heavy artillery, apparently.

"Guys, this doesn't look well. What about we retreat a bit and fortify ourselves while we plan an attack on those mortars?" She asked, but the comms stayed silent. Jack was shooting from a corner, ahead to their soldiers, and Gabriel- where in the world was he, now?

She was taking her shots as fast as she could, now, trying to disable as many Bastions as possible, when she saw their Commander. He dropped from a partially destroyed rooftop in front of Reinhardt and started shooting like she had never seen him shoot before. He was so fast his weapons barely kept up with him, the Bastions around him falling in pieces as if they were made of paper.

It was both scary and amazing to watch.

And when he ran out of bullets, he was just in the middle of the enemy lines, with no protection.

Fuck's sake, Gabriel.

Reinhard ran towards him and used his armour to shield him while they retreated to a half-destroyed building. Their soldiers launched another barrage of rockets that quieted the Omnics for a while, and the Crusader broke into a run again, this time towards their soldiers. Gabriel was nowhere in sight _again _.

"I'm hit!" Jack groaned on the comms, and Ana looked at his last known location to see him scurrying on the ground to get under cover. Shells kept on raining on them, and they were getting dangerously close to her, too.

"How bad?" She asked. "Not in a good position for a medic."

"Will get to you, Jack, stay hidden," Reinhardt panted, almost at their soldiers already.

"Overwatch team, Commander Lacroix here," she heard out of the blue in a lovely French accent. "Our warplanes will be at your position in 2 mins. Get to the City Hall, we'll bomb the hell out of those bastards."

"About time, Commander," Gabriel grunted, then switched to the general channel. "Everyone, fall back to the City Hall, now. Bombing incoming in 2. Go, go, go!"

"Reinhardt, the infantry needs you to retreat," Ana kept shooting. "The Bastions would shred them to pieces."

"But, Jack?"

"I'll get him," Gabriel said, wherever he was, and the Crusader deployed his barrier in front of their team again so they could all retreat down the half-ruined street as safely as possible.

The incoming planes engines hissed loudly in the air, almost blocking Ana's music completely.

"Guys, I still cannot see you. Need to move faster!"

The planes sounded closer and closer, and Ana stopped using her rifle to have a better idea of the battleground. Their troops were safely back, Reinhardt was still down there but far enough from the ruins, and their super-soldiers…

She was about to tell them in the comms to hide as much as they could when the squad of warplanes flew past them in perfect formation. In a moment, they were bombarding the hell out of the destroyed buildings around the City Hall, and Ana crouched, covering her face with an arm.

Shit.

She looked around the moment the planes drifted in the distance, trying to spot anyone among the smoke. Some small fires had started through the rubble, adding to the smoke and dust, but nothing moved. Nothing shot.

"Guys?" She called in the comms, then nibbled at her lower lip. "Position?"

Silence. Silence that made her swallow and shook her head. No. She refused to accept they could fall like this, under friendly fire. Her hands squeezed the balcony. They probably needed a moment; the explosions would stun anyone, not to say deafen them.

"Gabriel, Jack, do you copy?"

There was a burst of static on the comms, and she took a deep breath.

"To the right of the City Hall," Jack's voice came by among coughs. "Could use some cover."

Reinhardt was there in a moment, his bulky figure a shadow among the dust and smoke. Ana could only sigh when two more shadows joined them and walked back to the building. One day they would be the end of her. Or, at least, the cause of her grey hairs.

Despite the apparent tranquillity of the battleground, Ana remained at her position, rifle ready to shoot and her music on- a soft melody this time that reminded her of the blanket of snow that usually covered their Swiss headquarters. Gabriel gave instructions to their soldiers to perch on the City Hall's balconies or around them to guard the perimeter. It was a good precaution, because some Omnics always survived this kind of attacks and they would not retreat even if they had lost the battle.

There was a moment of silence in the general comms and, then, a fucking storm started in the officers' one.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Gabriel yelled. "You almost got Jack killed!"

"Me?" Reinhardt's voice sounded half surprised and half _angry _."You're the one that should have been covering his back."

"Which I was doing, until you charged into the fucking enemy lines!"

"Don't make me laugh! You've been out of position the whole mission!"

"That's enough, you two," Ana set the safety catch on her rifle and rushed downstairs before her bunch of idiots killed each other.

"I was scouting and flanking them because all you did was stand there with your shield doing nothing!"

"Gabe, that's enough," Jack intervened, and Ana hurried up, jumping down several steps in one go to get to the ground floor faster.

"I was protecting our soldiers!"

"Keep telling yourself that," Gabriel snorted. "I don't know why I bothered taking you here today."

Ana opened the door to see Reinhardt standing up in front of their Commander, still in his full armour, hands made fists, and Gabriel…

"Gabriel, hey…" she called, her eyes glued to his dark, _smoking _arms. He was not on fire and it was not that sort of smoke either. It- it was absurd, but it seemed as if it was part of him, pulsing as a manifestation of his anger. Even his curls seemed to dissolve somewhat.

Jack gasped audibly when he noticed it and got up, a hand holding his still bleeding side, and walked towards them.

"Gabe, man, are you- shit," he put a hand on his shoulder. "Your arms, Gabe. You…"

"I'm fine!" He roared. The smoke seemed to swirl around him for an instant and then it disappeared. "I have it under control."

"Under control? No, that's- we need to talk to the SEP program asap."

"_ We _need to do nothing," Gabriel pushed Jack away and walked towards the door. Her dark eyes dared Ana to say anything, but she just made a thin line with her lips.

So, Gabriel was just tired, and Jack did not know what was up. Bullshit.

Their return trip was even more fun than the outbound one. Gabriel was sitting with the pilot, arms crossed, looking at the dawning sky. Reinhardt was strapped to his seat so stone-faced it felt as if he was still wearing his helmet. So it was just Ana and Jack sitting together, sighing side by side again.

Fortunately, Jack's injury was not terrible, and his enhanced body was already healing up. Which did not mean he could be running errands, but they had to find positives somewhere.

He was also a bit ashamed of having blatantly lied to her, but she understood it was not his secret to share. At least, now they could worry together.

"We think it's something to do with his SEP enhancement," Jack typed on the datapad once again. "Something seems to be going awry, but we don't know what, or why after so many years."

"Does it hurt?"

"He says it feels weird, as if suddenly he had more limbs, or something. Sometimes it makes him sick."

"He shouldn't be in active like this," Ana typed furiously on the screen. "It's not safe."

"He-" Jack rubbed his stubbled cheek. "Let's contact the SEP doctors, first, OK?"

"Jack…"

"I promise I'll keep you posted about everything that happens," he typed. "Ana, we cannot-the war. We cannot do this without him, you know it."

She knew it, of course she did. But what happened today? It had frankly shaken her. But she was not talking about the smoke, his blatantly disregard for the mission, or being constantly out of position as Reinhardt called out, but his anger. The bitterness in his voice.

Granted, Gabriel was not as caring as Jack, but he would never attack any of them like that. Damn, she even feared for a moment he would engage in a fist-fight with Reinhardt there and then.

"I know, but-"

The aircraft hit a turbulence patch and Reinhardt woke up with a startle, almost head-butting the seat in front of him and scaring the hell out of Jack and Ana. He held his face for a moment before grumbling under his breath and leaning back on his seat.

"Now, he also worries me," Jack wrote in the datapad. "He's been acting weird today. Do you know what's wrong?"

"I arrived _hours ago _and haven't spoken with him more than you have today," she tapped in the screen passive-aggressively. "He's part of your team, too, you know. You can ask him yourself."

Jack swallowed and looked to the side for a moment. She knew Reinhardt was not exactly the kind of guy they liked having around- too big, too strong, too handsome, and not a bit ashamed to brag about any of his qualities. He was a thought competitor and loved winning, just like them. Too many big egos in one place, she understood that pretty well. Yet, Reinhardt would lay down his life for any of them without thinking, and she would kick the super-soldiers in the butt if their petty egos prevented them from taking care of their team.

"Sorry," he whispered, rubbing his frown with a thumb. "You're right."

Ana snorted, but kept on typing.

"He was fine until we landed in France. That's all I can tell."

Even though the German rarely shared what made him unhappy unless it was work-related, she could always try asking him; he would not be more difficult to deal with than Gabriel, that was for sure. Their bloody Commander and his bloody secrets-

Then, it hit her. What if Jack was next? What if the SEP enhancements had an expiry date? She turned to look at the blond man, frowning in worry.

"Jack, if you start feeling-"

He snatched the datapad from her hands and winced at the sudden movement.

"The SEP never experimented with two soldiers in the same way. The doctors- they seemed to change things depending on our DNA," he winced again, but this time Ana could read it was not due to his injury. She could bet their time at the SEP was anything but pleasant. "I'm fine. So far, at least."

Ana grabbed Jack's hand and squeezed it. Screw the datapad, she did not care if Gabriel could hear her. Actually, she kind of wished he did.

"You are not alone in this. Neither of you are."

He squeezed her hand back.

"Thanks, really appreciate it," he gave her that smile that melted glaciers, and she could not help but smile back. "Ah, but, if there is an urgent call-"

"I'll go," she nodded. "But I really hope there's not. I'd like to see my daughter before she forgets she has a mother, you know."

"She'd never forget," Jack snorted softly. "We won't let her, anyway. She looks more and more like you every day. I crack up every time Reinhardt calls her 'Little Captain'."

It made her laugh too, she had to admit it, but now she could only muster half a smile. Her eyes looked for the Crusader; his head was tilted towards the window, he had his earbuds on and his arms crossed over his chest. The very air around him was upset, and Ana started to think that her idea of asking him may not go as well as she hoped for.

It was easy to be direct with Jack and Gabriel, that was the language they understood and appreciated. It was easy to throw insults at them when they were being specially stubborn or dickheads, but Reinhardt would only take that personally- and she was shit at dealing with emotions.

Jack threw the datapad to her lap to get her attention, and she could not help but raise her eyebrows first and then frown at the question written on it.

"How are things with him?"

"Why are we discussing this again?" She typed back.

"You don't look at any of us the way you look at him," Ana watched him write in the datapad with a shit-eating grin, and she glared at him from his shoulder.

"What the hell, Jack," she growled. "Really. That's not true, _at all _."

"I'm sorry, but it is," he shrugged softly, holding his ribs. "It's- It's not a bad thing, you know. The world is a pile of shit right now, and-"

"Shut up, John Francis Morrison, before I punch you in the face."

He chuckled softly, a fond look on his face, and grabbed the datapad again.

"He's a good guy," he typed at the screen, making her roll her eyes.

"It's not a matter of being a good guy or not. I don't look at him in any special way. I don't- I just don't."

Her team tried so hard to hook them up that she had given it serious thought, but it did not end well. Not that she expected anything different but, at least, the exercise had reassured herself in her position. First of all, they were at war, and mixing love and war was a recipe for disaster, as she was well aware. So, _at least _, they had to win the war first for her to ever consider any sort of relationship again.

Second, she did not look at Reinhardt in any special way, at all. Sure, they were in friendly terms. She had fun when he was around and considered the big idiot a member of her strange family, but there was no way she would purposely look at him in a way that would encourage his feelings.

And third, Ana was quite sure she could never love anyone enough to even consider it. Her numb heart beat only for Fareeha and, oftentimes, Ana found herself thinking she did not love her daughter as much as she should. And, if that happened with the person Ana loved the most in the world, how could she even think she could share her life with someone else? How could she be that selfish?

"You know you can tell me anything… even if I may feel a bit jealous you won't choose me :("

"Jack!" She hissed, slapping him in the leg. "Stop being a dumbarse already!"

He chuckled softly, merry, and leaned his head on hers. Ana let go a long breath. The only positive thing about all this was that he was having a good time after a shitty day, and that he was relaxed for a while. He worked too much despite the hours Ana put in every day to take some of the paperwork from him and Gabriel. Ah, damn Gabriel for not telling her he was in such a mess. She would have bought him dark chocolate, at least.

"Ready to land in ten, strap your belts, please," the pilot chimed in, and Ana started making plans to deal with her friends. Talking to Reinhardt first would probably be the easiest, because he would likely head to the gym first and then to the canteen, and she could catch up with him there.

Gabriel would be a bit more difficult because the man could hide like a ghost when he wanted to. Yet, he would have to come back to his quarters at some point; worst-case scenario, she would make camp there and just wait for him.

Ana had just kissed Fareeha goodnight and put her to sleep on her room even though she was old enough already to roll her eyes at her every time. It was convenient to share rooms with her. Messier, but convenient. Also, it gave Ana an incentive to come back to sleep instead of just crashing on any sofa.

She stretched out and stifled a yawn. It was only 8 PM and she was knackered already, but she wanted to have that chat with Reinhardt before going to sleep. She knew herself and, if she did not ease her mind, she would roll in bed for hours- and, she needed to be rested to deal with Gabriel the next day.

"Computer, where's Lieutenant Wilhelm?"

"At the gym, sir," the woman-like voice replied, and Ana raised her eyebrows. She could not believe he had been working out for the whole afternoon after being eight hours straight in his armour, and yet, she could _indeed _believe it. It was time she bribed him out with food.

The walk to the gym was uneventful, probably because most of their soldiers were either deployed or resting already. There were always exercise junkies at the gym late at night, though. Ana knew it because once she went to the gym when she could not sleep, and bumped into two guys that had just stepped down from the running machine.

She opened the door to the gym and stopped on her tracks before colliding with a wall of muscle- just the one she was looking for. Reinhardt had just stopped doing whatever he had been doing; his breathing was still laboured and his tank top was drenched with sweat. His face was an open book to her; he was still angry and upset. And hurt. Also, a bit surprised to see her there.

He took a couple of steps back to grant her access to the gym, but Ana stood where she was, settling a rebel lock of hair behind her ear.

"Hey. I was, mmm, planning to get dinner at the canteen before it closes," she said, casually. "You going that way?"

"No," he said curtly, the hand holding the door tightening. It was clear he wanted to bolt forward and run, but Ana was in his way and he would not make it without bumping into her. "Not hungry. Going to my room, now."

Not hungry after killing himself at the gym? Bullshit. He wanted to get rid of her. The idea made Ana frown inwardly.

"I don't need a pep talk," Reinhardt continued when she remained silent. "I don't need company. And I know where to find food when I get hungry. Now, if you don't mind-"

Ana crossed her arms and, if anything, stood in his way even more.

"Stop being an idiot for a second," she snorted. "I'm worried about you."

"Don't be, then. I'm fine, see?" He made a gesture with his hands before putting them on his hips. And he was right, he was unharmed for his standards; just a couple of bruises where bullets had impacted his armour repeatedly. "Get back to Jack. He's the one that got hurt, remember?"

"That was not even a second. Reinhardt, I'm-"

His eyebrows twitched, and she saw the hurt in his gaze deepen and then melt into anger. Had she had not known him any better, she would have stepped aside straight away; despite his usual goofiness, he could be a downright terrifying mountain of muscles if he wanted to- and she had never seen him wanting to be scary more than at that very moment.

"I'm not your pity project, Ana," he snapped, pushing her away, and walking down the corridor without looking back.

Wow.

Ana stared at his back as he left. She was not angry at him; she was worried. It was likely that she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time... but he had never lost his temper with her. Never.

Had she been such a bad friend to him that he would not consider she genuinely wanted to help?

The beginnings of their new relationship had been plagued with uncomfortable moments, but it did not take them long to fall in a sort of routine. Nowadays, Reinhardt upheld his friendship promise flawlessly, respecting her space- even if sometimes he did it in an awkward way.

Ana tried to be as friendly as possible while keeping in mind the _elephant in the room _. Not because it made her uncomfortable, but because she did not want him to get hurt. Well, _more _hurt. She had pushed him away a couple of times, disengaging when things seemed too personal, but the way his shoulders had slumped in dejection every time made her reconsider; soon she learned that entrusting him the decision of backing off was for the best.

But, truth is, after that, Reinhardt kept his distances even more. Sometimes she would catch him staring at her longingly instead of engaging in a conversation. Other times he would be about to say what was on his mind or ask her a question only to back off at the last moment, turning away- oh. Actually, he usually turned away just like he had done today, but with _manners _.

Ana had always thought it was his way of keeping himself from harm. His choice. But she was not so sure anymore. What if he thought he could not tell her what was on his mind without her pushing him away? That would explain a lot of his silences and glances.

She had never given it much thought because there was always something more pressing to worry about- not to say he was usually joking around and laughing with her. He had never complained, so maybe she was just overreacting… or maybe, he had never complained so she would not push him away.

_Oh, fudge. _

Ana huffed and leaned her back on the doorway. She hated the idiots of the Strike Team. They did not give her more than headaches and worries, each one in a different way. She was not an emotional person; she did not know how to deal with her own shit, let alone with that of others- yet some sort of instinct kicked in every time they were in trouble and made her want to help, even if it was by just sitting by them and insulting them to laughter.

Maybe Fareeha was to blame.

Ah, damn. She stretched and let go a long breath. As if they did not have enough problems with the Omnics. She better go back to her room, then, try to get some sleep- and give all this more thought in the morning.

But, of course, Ana could not sleep.

To be fair, she had snoozed for about a couple of hours, but then she had woken up and could not go back to sleep since. It was 2:05 AM now, she was tired and aching, and her mind was going on and about her team of idiots and how screwed up they all were.

She stretched up lazily and got up. On any day, she would wake up at 6 o'clock sharp to get on with training, debriefing and paperwork before the unexpected hit them, and her only chance to sleep a couple of hours more was a mug of hot milk.

Since Gabriel have had a small kitchen built on the same wing where the Strike Team's rooms were, it had seen high demand for coffee, tea, and food at unearthly hours- and Ana herself appreciated it greatly. Interestingly enough, the lights were on, and she could smell coffee.

_Coffee _.

Jack or Gabriel jumped to mind straight away, but it was already too late to turn around when the sound of heavy steps betrayed the Crusader.

"Reinhardt, it's two in the-" She stopped talking when the German jumped out of his skin and collided against the counter as he turned around ready to fight. Ana raised her hands and took a step backwards. "It's all right. Sorry to startle you."

He ran a hand over his face and leaned on the counter. His anger seemed spent at last, but he was every bit as upset as he had been before. Just, his movements were slower, tired, and his right hand was bleeding, slowly dripping over his cotton pyjamas and the floor.

"Wow. Who was the unlucky loser?" She asked, not sure how to start a conversation- or even if he was in the mood for it.

When he stared at her in silence, visibly confused and most likely still half-asleep, Ana made a gesture towards his hand.

He had the decency to look surprised, at least.

"Aw, shit, it's not-" He sighed, inspecting the damage, his pyjamas, and the floor somewhat embarrassed. Then, he grabbed a napkin from the counter and pressed it against his hand. "I got up too quickly, ran into my wardrobe."

The coffee machine gurgled and hissed as it filled quite a large mug, and the smell got stronger. Richer. It was Gabriel's favourite coffee brand.

"And so you beat it to a pulp?" Ana asked, walking in and going straight to the fridge.

"Something like that…" He drawled. "Anyway, let me get the coffee and me and my mess will be gone."

"I'd like you to stay," she said, taking a deep breath. Since the wardrobe had been the last casualty and punching solid objects was a terrible idea, she rather try to keep him contained _if _possible. "But I won't push it if you don't want to."

Reinhardt leaned on the of the biggest chair in the kitchen, giving her the back, and stood in silence for a moment.

"You want me to stay after I was a jerk to you?"

There was a touch of irony to his voice, a hint of resignation, and maybe even a challenge, and Ana poured a mug full of milk and put it in the microwave.

"Reinhardt, you don't know how to be a jerk," she snorted softly. "I'm not angry with you, I know you're having a bad day."

He snorted, his strong back bent over the chair as if it carried the weight of the world.

"That's no excuse for the way I talked to you. I was such an idiot, it's unacceptable."

"An idiot indeed," she imitated his tone. "But I'll forgive you if you sit down and stay."

"I don't deserve your kindness," he flopped down at the table after a moment of silence. Good. That was better than fuming away down the corridor and breaking stuff.

Ana walked towards the computer panel on the wall and requested a first-aid kit, then took another mug, filled it with milk, and put it also in the microwave. Now it was her chance to speak with him- even if he was likely not going to be very talkative.

"Gabriel was _obviously _not himself today," she said casually, laying a hand on his shoulder; he was so tense he could have been sculpted in rock. "But, while that doesn't excuse him, either, I have to admit you rarely get this upset about anything. Was it-?"

"I rarely get the chance to screw up as much as I did today," he grumbled, rubbing his scarred eyebrow absentmindedly.

"You are being too hard on yourself," Ana took him by the jaw to turn his head a little and noticed a red mark almost hidden by the scar. He had likely run into the wardrobe head-first. "It was not-"

"I ran into the enemy lines. Missed a tank. Did absolutely nothing other than-" He stopped talking abruptly, his face scrunching as if he had just eaten a green lemon. "Gabriel was right. I could have got many of us killed."

"That's not true. And, in any case, we all came back alive. Now," Ana continued, because he had opened his mouth already and he sure was going to say something stupid, "don't say it wasn't thanks to you, because we would have been destroyed without your help."

Reinhardt grumbled something under his breath, and thankfully, the microwave beeping came to Ana's rescue. She picked up the jar of cocoa powder Jack fancied over everything for breakfast and put a couple of spoonfuls on each mug. Then, she carried both mugs to the table and left one in front of Reinhardt, who was probing his fingers gingerly.

"Ah..." He could not hide his disappointment when he noticed the mug did not contain coffee. "It's not like I don't appreciate it, but-"

"It's two in the morning," Ana raised an eyebrow. "Hardly time for a coffee."

"Don't want to go back to sleep," he slouched in the chair, looking more grumpy than before.

"Why?"

That, actually, was a silly question, but it was out before she could stop it. Reinhardt let go a sigh that could pass for a snort and raised his bloodied hand slightly.

"Nightmare."

It took Ana a moment to understand what he was trying to say. It was likely he had bolted from bed and slammed his head on the wardrobe. Half-asleep, he probably thought he was under attack and defended himself, smashing the poor thing to smithereens.

Ow, wait. If his wardrobe was like hers, it would have _had _a mirror panel over the door. Ana looked at the floor straight away to see if he had cut his feet, too, but there were just blood droplets on the tiles. Good.

"It's fine, just need a couple of days," he said, taking a bloodied splinter out his hand and leaving it on the napkin.

"A couple of days for a nightmare seems a bit overkill…" She cocked her head, then immediately knew that had not been the most clever thing she could have said; Reinhardt was glaring at his chocolate mug as if he wanted to disintegrate it. "What I meant to say is, there's a lot more on your mind than a nightmare. You froze up when we landed, and everything went downhill from there."

His eyebrows twitched, and he made a thin line with his mouth. There were a million emotions running through his head, being anger and embarrassment the most prominent ones. _Anger and embarrassment _. They did not fit the Crusader at all.

Several minutes passed in silence, and Ana bit inside her mouth when it became clear that he would rather pluck his eyes out than spill the beans. As she suspected, by trying to keep things easy between them, she had crippled their friendship. Just- this was not supposed to happen. He was supposed to know it was all right to tell her when he was upset, when he needed a friend.

She realised just now how foolish and unrealistic that sounded, and how much of an idiot she had been. An idiot for not seeing this would happen, for allowing it, for _encouraging _it.

But there would be time to wallow in her incompetence later.

"Won't you tell me what's wrong?" She asked, hoping that being straight was the right way to approach him. "Maybe I can help."

"There's nothing to help," he took a deep breath, then glanced in her direction. It was a quick look, tentative, as if he was testing the waters. Ana tried to put her best friendly face not to scare him away, and it seemed to work because he continued. "The place," he said in a quiet voice, "reminded me of home."

Ana stirred her chocolate. It was not a lot of information but, at least, it was better than nothing. He had said 'home', so 'home' presumably meant a city with a castle in Germany. She was not exactly familiar with Europe, so it could- Ah, wait. The Crusaders' headquarters were in a castle, if she remembered his stories properly. _Ei-something-horrible-to-pronounce _, was it? The… Oh, of course. The headquarters they lost, along with their whole unit.

But memories of his lost home should cause sadness and grief, not embarrassment or anger- unless she was missing a crucial point, which she probably was. When she read Reinhardt's files the day he arrived to their doorstep, she only found out that whole unit and many soldiers perished while successfully deterring the Omnic advance over Stuttgart. Whatever else happened seemed to be lost to the world, but for him.

"My last battle there ended badly," he continued, surprising her. "I was _scared _of repeating my mistakes, so today I was trying to play it safe. Yet-" He stopped talking and let go a long, angry breath. "I don't seem to learn, and it frustrates me to no end."

Ana understood him well. So well, that she could not help but feel a surge of sympathy for him, and then guilt at her own mistakes, anger. But years of therapy had taught her she should be kind to herself when she meant well and things went awry all the same.

It was not an easy thing to do, though.

"You tried your best, Reinhardt, even if things didn't go as you expected. You tried to keep us safe, to destroy the robots, to give Jack the opening he asked for, to do your job the best you could. You are your worst critic, too hard on yourself."

"You sound just like the counsellor."

"Because he's right," she sighed. "We all make mistakes, even when we mean well."

"There are some mistakes we should never repeat," he mumbled, looking away, and his words made her chest ache.

"I know. But, sometimes, when we try too hard to amend for those mistakes, we make others. Unwillingly. People get hurt. We get hurt. Then, we try to amend for those, too, if we can."

That made him look up, a silent question in his eyes.

A small robot wheeled into the kitchen carrying a tray with the supplies Ana had requested, distracting her. Only when it beeped softly Reinhardt spotted it, and he looked mildly surprised when she picked up the supplies and shooed the robot away.

"Don't look at me like that. I know you are fine. Probably," she raised an eyebrow. "But bleeding all over the kitchen is gross. Here, give it to me," she extended a hand towards him, and the German hesitated for a moment before complying.

She took his large hand on hers and inspected the cuts. Most of them were shallow and straight clean, probably made by mirror shards when his fist punched through the door. His knuckles had come off worst, bruised and raw, and she had to use the tweezers to remove several splinters from the broken skin. Nothing spectacular all in all, but it had to be done.

Reinhardt looked intently at their hands, his upset softening into something more akin to sadness, and Ana just remembered his unasked question. Damn it, she was sleepy indeed.

But, it was not the time to speak about their relationship and how much she had just screwed up. It was the time to help him deal with his problems, and she had just the right story to tell, too.

"I talk to the counsellor about Sam, sometimes. And about my old team. My father. It makes it easier, somewhat," she offered, and the look of genuine surprise in his face both warmed her up and made her feel terribly guilty.

When was the last time they have had a meaningful conversation like this? When was the last time she had allowed them to actually be friends?

"Your old team? I've never heard you talk about them…"

"That's because I suck at storytelling," she snorted, swallowing her feelings and taking another splinter off. "But it's not as if you talked much about yours, either."

He lowered his gaze to the table, and she knew she had just called bingo.

Reinhardt could talk a lot. He could discuss the most absurd things in detail and use himself as an example of most, unsurprisingly. Ana had heard millions of times how bad his first armour was, how he almost got himself killed trying it on, how he won a wrestling award while at the Army, and, at least, five ways he had lost his eye, each more ridiculous than the previous one- but all of his grandiloquent storytelling just felt wrong when he barely glided over the other characters in the story, if he included them at all.

"Talking about my team used to hurt," she continued. "I hated remembering them, and I hated myself for what happened to them. But the counsellor-"

"What happened to your team?"

His quiet question made her look up again from what she was doing. For a moment, she thought he wanted to see if she was bluffing, but he was looking at her with his heart in his hand.

She could not say she was not expecting the question, since she had practically lured him into asking it. He was the only member of the Strike Team that did not know- and most likely, the only one that may benefit from hearing it, as strange as it was.

Ana remembered when she told Gabriel, one night years and years ago when they were both quite drunk. Jack learned about it later that same year when he found her crying over spilled tea. Torbjörn just put two and two together reading profiles she did not even know existed, then he let her know by dropping in her email all the pictures he could find from that time. That had not been that long ago, a couple of years, tops.

"Sorry," he lowered his gaze again when she did not answer straight away. "It's obviously not- I cannot do anything right today, it seems."

"No, it's not that," she rushed to say. "I was just thinking I have never told you about this before. But, believe me, it's not because it's a secret, but because it makes for a pretty terrible conversation opener…"

Her joke made him relax his shoulders a bit, and he stirred his chocolate mug with his free hand, silent, thoughtful. It was rare to see him lose his cheerful nature, but boy, when he did, he really turned into someone else. And Ana hated, really hated seeing him like this.

If listening to her story helped him realise he was not alone in the screwing department, then she would gladly tell it as many times as required.

"We were at Samalut, a city at the bank of the Nile. Well, it had been a city at some point. It had been mostly destroyed already, but we were using the ruins of the buildings to fence an Omnic attack," she said, picking up a small flask with iodine and daubing a gauze with it. "They had just razed one of the biggest Army compounds we had back then, basically hacking their way into our defences and our equipment."

She could still feel the heat of the desert, the dryness of the sand in her covered face, the struggle to find water they could drink. Their despair.

It sucked.

"Sam and his platoon were our best chance of survival; they had the firepower and the mobility, and the Omnics knew it. So when they came for us, they brought our own anti-tank batteries, our own missiles. Our own chemical weapons."

A couple of cuts were deeper and were still bleeding, so she used sticky strips to keep the edges close together and help them heal properly.

The blood was already drying, its smell mixing with that of the iodine. She snorted. This was nothing. This was nothing compared with what she lived back then. Nothing really could ever compare to the horror, the dread, the _smell _of death, faeces, blood, and gunpowder in the desert's heat.

"At one point," she continued at last, because it was now or never, "I had to choose between disabling the anti-tank battery before it destroyed Sam's robotank, or snipe down the drone carrying a biochemical agent that was flying over our soldiers."

Reinhardt took a sharp intake of breath and grabbed her hands on his. She almost smiled, unsure if he was trying to comfort her or himself.

"I saved Sam. Fareeha had just been born, and I couldn't fathom losing him. It was wrong," she snorted, her throat dry. "I was wrong. I knew it. I did it anyway, and I got everyone else killed. My friends, my father-"

The sound of his chair scratching the floor almost ended the sentence for her. The German knelt on the floor by her side and threw his huge arms around her and her chair almost in one motion.

His warmth engulfed her, and she felt the smouldering ache in her chest receding. His head leaned on hers, his beard tickling the side of her neck, and Ana closed her eyes. War disappeared from her mind as he squeezed her against his chest, washed away by the smell of sweat, faux leather of the gym, and the plain soap facilities used to wash all their clothes.

"You're the strongest person I know," Reinhardt said after taking a long breath. Then, he pulled back a bit to look at her. He was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, but could not find it in herself to pull him away. His blue eye was full of pride and love, and a myriad of other emotions- and then he gasped, absolute outrage painted in his face.

"Wait, he _left you _after you did this for him?!"

The Crusader let her go and got up almost in one motion, making fists with his hands and raging in German to the heavens.

"It's not as easy as that…" Ana could have added more, but she refrained herself. One thing was telling him about her military career, and another very different was digging up dirt on her private life. Besides, she did not want him to go in a rampage punching the hell out of the kitchen cabinets that _mysteriously happened _to look like Sam. "Believe me, he's not worth the effort."

"Next time I see his ugly mug I will kill him," he said, slamming his right fist in his left open hand. Immediately after, he winced and shook his injured hand. "Ow, ow, shit..."

"Ah, settle down before you break something for good..." Ana hid her face on a hand for a moment, almost chuckling.

Reinhardt snorted softly but obliged, sitting down again in the chair in front of hers. He was still ruminating about Sam, she could see it in his face. It was strange, she thought, how he was the only one that had ever reacted like this to her story. It was flattering, somehow, that he tried to comfort her, protect her. Avenge her. He must really share her pain in some way or form, but she knew better than to ask.

"Hand?" She wiggled her fingers, and he left his hand in front of her again. Then, he shifted on his seat and leaned his hand on his free hand. She could feel his eye on her, and risked a little glance to read the open book he was; there was pride on his look, and respect, fondness, longing- and all that was outshining the hurt and anger for now. It was ridiculous. _He _was ridiculous. She had just told him how stupid she was, how many people she had got killed, she had been the worst possible kind of friend to him, and he still looked at her as if she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

The _idiot _.

Ana put plasters on some of his fingers, trying not to mind him or her flushing cheeks too much.

"Will I live?" He asked after a moment, a lacklustre, little smile on his lips.

"Doubt it," Ana made a face while covering his knuckles with a soft gauze. "You haven't touched your chocolate, yet."

"Pah. This American concoction hardly qualifies. One day I'll show you what a _Heiße Schokolade _is and you'll never look back."

The silly German flexed his arm to give his words more emphasis, of course he did, and Ana would have laughed out loud if she had not been so tired. Instead, she chuckled while she tried to stifle a yawn.

"Ah, but I'm keeping you up-" He said, his expression turning sad and guilty. Damn, it had been a short-lived victory, she thought, finishing bandaging his hand to keep the gauze in place, at least, for the night. "I'll go watch some telly- somewhere far from walls and wardrobes, I promise."

"Want some more company?" Ana asked, watching him clean of dried blood the tiled floor, the counter, and even the table. Her hands were smeared, too, as were her clothes where he had touched her, but she would clean up later.

"You've done more than enough," he took a deep breath, then smiled. It was not one of those smiles of his that competed with the sun, but it felt like a treasure all the same. "Thank you, Ana. You may think I'm crazy but, it- listening to you helped. And I'm sorry, again. I was such an arsehole, I don't deserve you."

Actually, she was the one that did not deserve him, but she took good care of not saying it out loud.

"Silly," she snorted softly, instead. "Glad I could help. But, what you said at the gym, the 'pity-'"

He went strawberry red in the space of a heartbeat and rushed out of the kitchen, ducking the door frame in the last second.

"Go-good night, Ana!"

Ana watched in disbelief as he disappeared without even let her finish her question. _Really _. They had just been talking about truly horrific situations, _real _problems. He had managed to talk to her about what was eating it up, and yet- yet somehow this was a whole new level of embarrassment. At least, this kind had nothing of self-loathing on it. It was just the classic "I'll die before admitting to anything" sort of situation.

In any case, her screwing up their friendship was something she had to find a way to deal with. Being the dear he was, he would probably forgive her, but she should really step up her game before she broke it completely. And she should make it up for him, somehow.

She leaned her head on her hands and sighed, but the sigh became a yawn. Better go back to sleep, now. She still had a lot of thinking and catching up to do in the morning.


	10. The Middle Years (1), Nov 2052 (later)

Reinhardt woke to a cramp in his neck. He sat up, disoriented. His mind was torn between the stabbing pain and the fact that he was precariously sitting on something, so it took him a moment to actually know where he was.

Couch. The Rover meeting room. Swiss HQ. Shit. He had lost count of the amount of times he had woken up there in the past two or three years.

He ignored the sharp pain in his right hand as he kneaded the muscles into submission, but soon his shoulders and back joined the chorus of aches. Then, it was the rest of his body.

He stretched out with a long, sleepy yawn; waking up sore was nothing out of ordinary, but the way his hand hurt was not exactly- wait. Bandages, he noticed at last. Ah, the wardrobe. _Ana _. He almost smiled, remembering how she took care of him, the chocolate. _Everything _.

The way he had talked to her made him want to scoop his eyes out with a spoon.

He sighed, probing his bruised knuckles softly. The wardrobe door was not very solid, mirror or not, but the clothes-hanger rail was. Moving the fingers hurt, but he was sure he had broken nothing- it was not exactly the first time he had punched something he should not have. Maybe it would be a good idea to move the wardrobe somewhere else… Though, if he could get Ana to take care of him again, he would not mind keeping it where it was.

He ran a hand over his hair. He would have loved to invite her to watch a film but, by the time she had finished bandaging his hand, he sure had used up all his luck for a year. He would rather retreat on his own than make her give him the cold shoulder for weeks. He really, _really _hated that.

Besides, he already had been the biggest idiot in town for asking her about her story. His stomach dropped at the thought. How could she live with what happened? He could not fathom being in her boots, yet she had moved on. She was a good soldier, a good Captain. She cared for the team, she would put herself at risk to get a better shot and save someone. She got her eyes enhanced to keep them safe. She was a good mom to Fareeha, a good friend to them all.

If she was not inspiring, he did not know who was.

Besides, she had gotten out of her comfort zone to help him and take care of his mess. He could not put in words how much that meant to him, but he should let her know, somehow - as long as she did not insist in asking him about his stupid comeback.

He felt a surge of embarrassment just by thinking about it. Good grief. Some days he could do nothing straight. He sighed, rubbing his scalp vigorously.

She- Ah, she was so strong… And then, there he was, losing his nerve over how similar to Eichenwalde the French city was.

The moment they set foot in the castle, when the battlements and the tall towers cast their shadow over him, he felt the icy grip of dread on his chest. His limbs went numb as his heart leaped like a runaway horse and only after a while, Ana's shoves made him move again.

He would have given a hand to take his helmet off at that point because he was panting like a dog, but he did not dare to face her or anyone, for the matter. Let alone when the Bastions were already attacking.

He did not dare, in fact, to do anything that was not hold his shield and stand in front of his soldiers until Jack asked him for support. And, of course, he had to fucking miss a tank and then charge into the enemy lines.

_Goddamnit _.

He had panicked then, because that was _exactly _what he knew would happen and he fucking did it anyway, leaving his team way too far away so they would die again. And, if all that had not been enough, Gabriel jumped in the middle of all those Bastions and almost gave him a heart attack.

Reinhardt squeezed his eyes with a hand, fighting the urge to punch himself in the face. He could forgive himself for freezing over a castle but, for being absolutely useless? That was a different story.

Yet, his mind kept going back and again to the castle. The battlements. The flags waving in the air. Maybe he was being too hard on himself, like Ana said? Maybe he had been too distracted to think straight.

He wanted to believe it, but the pit in his guts said otherwise. Thinking or not, he should be better. He could be better. He just needed to train harder. Fight harder. Maybe review past missions, see how he could have done better.

He could use the holoroom for that, he thought, getting up- slowly. His legs and lower back also needed a good stretching, but the way his replaced knee complained made him frown; overdoing it at the gym after spending hours in his armour was never a great idea, but he always seemed to forget about it until everything ached.

Well. Whining about it would not help matters, but preparing a better training regime might. But first, he would take a long shower. Hopefully, the water would drown his worries and his embarrassment, and would help with the soreness.

After the shower, his hair still dripping wet, Reinhardt removed the wet bandages and plasters from his hand. The area around the knuckles was swollen, the unbroken skin painted in several shades of purple. Water had softened the scabbing over the scrapes and cuts, but the sticky strips over the deeper cuts were still holding.

It looked way worse than it was, to be honest, but he would not mind having it bandaged again if Ana was to do it. Oh, but, actually, nothing prevented him from asking her. He felt a smile creeping in. He could use that as an excuse to give her a little present.

Now, what could that be? What did Ana like? She was not known for having many possessions- none of them did. She always dressed in military clothes, wore no jewellery and, even if she did, well, she was likely to take his present the wrong way. It had to be something much more mundane. But, what?

Reinhardt took a couple of rice crackers from a cabinet and devoured them. The global war had made both supplies and commodities scarce; salt and sugary products, such as that chocolate Ana offered him yesterday, were considered luxuries in many countries. Just, that chocolate paled before the real thing he used to have when he was a boy.

Now, _that _would be a present for her, if only he could find some.

He sat on the bed and wiggled his trusty compression sleeve around his replaced knee. Of course, he could buy stuff at the canteen, but what if she did not like it?

No, he would need to think of something else. But, _what _?

He was buttoning up his cargo pants when someone knocked at his door— which was unexpected, given the time it must be.

"Come in," he said, and Jack obliged. _Jack _. He was wearing his fatigues, his hair coming up in perfect spikes, his blue eyes always confident—wait. Reinhardt looked at his wrist datapad and had to hold himself on the wall.

It was fucking 8:30 AM. Shit, no wonder he was starving. They all usually started the day at 6 AM sharp, and honestly, he did not remember the last time he woke up this late while not being at the Med Bay.

Shit. He had also missed the first meeting of the day. _Oh, boy. Great job, Reinhardt. _

"Hey, you weren't around for breakfast _or _debriefing, so I thought you may still be he- Holy smokes, man," Jack said when he spotted the wardrobe in shambles. "What happened?" He blinked a couple of times and then frowned, continuing before Reinhardt could answer. "Ok, I'm shit at this but, you know, I can pack a punch or two if the gym is not available…"

"The gym was available," Reinhardt rubbed the back of his neck upon seeing Jack's suspicious glare. "This was unintentional. I ran into it at night."

The other man cocked his head and pursed his mouth when he spotted his hand. Shit. Whether he broke the wardrobe because of a nightmare or in a fit of anger, there was no good answer.

He almost took a step backward, the threat of the counsellor heavy in the air. He hated going. Really did. It was a waste of time that made him feel worse at the end of the session than when he got in. No, beer and a chat with Torb was a much better solution to his troubles, even though the Captain would not see it this way.

No one ever did.

"I had mine moved away from the bed long ago, man," Jack snorted softly in the end, looking at the vandalised wardrobe with an indescribable expression on his face. "Cannot count the times I've broken the door... Just clean the glass ASAP before someone has an accident."

"_ Ja _, I didn't have time, yet," he said, relieved that Jack would not press it.

He was about to offer him a seat, but there was nowhere to sit. His room was usually neat —this was the Army, after all— but his bed was undone after leaving in the middle of the night, his clothes were still on the chair, and the floor was a mess. Hardly appropriate for visitors, unfortunately.

Jack started talking, though, as if it did not matter. Not only that, he did with the ease of someone that had been awake for hours and had no trouble sleeping; too fast and too annoying for Reinhardt to follow when he was still struggling to put his t-shirt on right.

"-and so, hoped you'd be up for some sparring," the Captain finished and looked at him, eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer. Well, whatever he had said was probably very interesting, but the last bit was definitely a _nope _. Just, his hand was a feeble excuse, mentioning his knee would grant him detention on Med Bay, and he did not want Jack howling with laughter at his aches and pains after the gym.

"Didn't you get shot yesterday?" Reinhardt asked instead, raising an eyebrow.

"Ah, that's dealt with," Jack raised his t-shirt to show him his side. There was a pink patch of skin over his ribs— a scar.

"Bloody super-soldiers," he snorted, putting his boots on.

"Ah, don't be like that," the Captain changed his weight from a leg to the other, amused. "Sure the German army had a program like the SEP. Or is it a coincidence most of you Crusaders were like freaking towers? I remember reading that your General was taller than you."

"_ Ja _, he was four inches taller than me, as he loved reminding me of…"

He remembered putting on years in the Army, getting taller and bulkier, and yet looking distraught at the mountain of a man that was Balderich— until one day he realised he could look at him in the eye without breaking his neck.

He could imagine him now, laughing at him, hands on hips, because he was taller than Reinhardt even with his head shaved. He laughed a lot, the bastard. And loved picking on him whenever he could.

Balderich would have liked it in Overwatch. Not only that, he would have been a great Commander for the team _if _Reinhardt had not-

He made fists with his hands and squeezed them hard enough for some of the cuts to reopen.

"Ah, I don't know," he swallowed, and tried to bury the feelings underneath a forced smile. Every time he had a bad rub with his past, even the smallest details brought back memories of Germany. "While most of our squadron was above the average size, we were from different backgrounds and I don't recall having heard of any genetic modification. Maybe we Germans are naturally like this?"

"Of course, why didn't I think of that?"

Boots tied, he stood up in front of Jack- he was a tall, muscular man on his own right; but how much that was the super-soldier serum, he would never know. Nor it mattered, at the end of the day. He was a good soldier and a nice comrade; one that Reinhardt had no idea what was doing in his room.

"So, not to sound like a dick but, is there something other I can help you with, or…?" He asked slowly, hoping to come straightforward enough to have an straightforward answer. He was not in the mood for riddles. Or, at least, the only riddle he was interested in was thinking of what he could do for Ana.

"Well, I just wanted to, you know," Jack rubbed the back of his neck and looked around, "do stuff together. We rarely do much together other than group training. Thought it might be good to know you better."

That was interesting, considering he and Gabriel did everything together with little room for anyone else (other than Ana, of course). Not that he was opposed to the idea; Reinhardt loved hanging around with his team more than with anyone else, but it was nothing but strange after so many years. Unexpected, so to speak.

"It's ok, though," Jack continued so quickly that Reinhardt wondered if he had looked at him the wrong way. "Was just an idea. Will leave you to-"

"Can do a light workout with you if I can get something to eat, first," he said before the Captain had absolutely committed to his retreat. "Emphasis on _light _."

Exercising would ease the soreness and help clear his mind. It always did.

"Light?" Jack raised his eyebrows. "Ok, I know yesterday was rough, but I'm starting to worry."

He looked worried indeed, and Reinhardt forced his slow-working mind to join the dots. Probably that was why he was there in his room. Not because he suddenly wanted to spend more time with him, or train, or anything, really. That was just the excuse.

Maybe yesterday he concealed his issues worse than he had imagined.

"Appreciate it, but no need to worry," he clapped Jack in the shoulder. As long as Gabriel did not know, he may still avoid the counsellor. "I'm no super-soldier and had a rough day. That's all."

"Actually, you-" the Captain stopped talking abruptly, torn, but took a breath and nodded. "Right. Let's go get you some food, then."

Half an hour later, Reinhardt was ready to try his luck at the gym. He was still stiff and sore from yesterday's crazy workout despite the warm shower, but he had been there before. And, as such, he rolled his shoulders and started an easy warm-up routine, trying to ignore Jack's amused snickering every time he grunted at the effort.

A lot of sweating and growling later, he jumped to the pull-up bar and managed to do a series of ten without dying.

"Good job, man," the Captain smacked him in the arm.

"Ah, that felt good," Reinhardt sighed, stretching his way-less-sore back. "But I better stop that before I screw my hand any further. Ana wouldn't be pleased."

"Ana?" Jack crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head. "Is there something, you know, going on?"

"As if," Reinhardt snorted and took a long gulp from his water bottle. "But she took care of my hand even if I had been a complete jerk to her, and the least-"

"A jerk? You? Can't believe that."

Reinhardt frowned and crossed his arms at Jack's choice of words. He and Ana always were so in-sync it was nauseati— He slapped himself at the thought and shook his head.

Listening to them talking yesterday had grated on his nerves so much that he had wanted to slam Jack's face against the aircraft's wall and throw him out for good. It had been pathetic. _He _had been pathetic, and he felt utterly embarrassed about it. It was not his place to be jealous, absolutely not. Ana could spend her time however she pleased, and with whoever she pleased— as much as he hated it was not with him.

"Man, you are really scaring me today. Maybe you should see a couns-"

"I'm perfectly fine!" Reinhardt put his fists on his hips and puffed his chest, hoping that he would not notice his nervous swallowing— but Jack did not seem to be buying it, and so he recurred to desperate measures. "What about we run some laps around the building?"

The look in Jack's eyes suddenly changed to that of a predator. He was fast; faster than any of them and not humble at all about it. Reinhardt knew he would not let go of an opportunity like this.

"Sure you're up to it? This is my thing, and I won't go easy on you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Reinhardt snorted, relieved beyond measure. He would rather wheeze his lungs out trying to keep up with him than see the counsellor any day. "But I thought shooting was your thing."

"I can also give you a beating at that if you want," he crossed his arms, the smile of the cat that ate the bird plastered on his face. Then, his expression sobered. "On a more serious note, do you remember to train your aim now and then? With a firearm, I mean."

"Ah, Jack, I grew up in the Army as much as you did! Of course I train my aim," Reinhardt rolled his eyes. And it was not a lie, just he did not train it as frequently as the Captain would like him to. Besides, if he had to resort to firing a rifle while in combat, they were more than screwed. "Now, let's go running before I ditch you for my breakfast."

They fitted ice grips on their trainers and put on some hoodies from the locker; running or not, it was November in the eternally snowed-in Switzerland and they did not want to slip or freeze to death the moment they stepped outside.

Reinhardt's stomach grumbled, and he rubbed it absentmindedly. Soon he would go to have a proper breakfast. Mmm~ sausages with eggs and roasted veggies. A classic. He smiled to himself. He just needed to run a bunch of laps and he would be back in the warmth with his food, and he could get on with his day.

He had another idea to manage what happened in France— he could also use the holoroom to stride across several castles, including Eichenwalde. The mere idea made him swallow, but he was no coward. Besides, anything was better than going to the counsellor. _Anything _.

"Ready for me to double your laps?" Jack interrupted his thoughts jumping by his side, rubbing his hands together. "Maybe triple them."

"Preposterous!" Reinhardt made slits with his eyes. He could admit when an opponent was way better than him, but he would not allow anyone to destroy and humiliate him without a fight. "I dare you to try."

"Six laps," the smile in Jack face grew bigger, and Reinhardt had to restrain himself from cracking his knuckles. "If I triple yours, you would train with me at the shooting range for a week."

"If you can't, you'll help me repay Ana for her kindness."

"That's a deal," the Captain punched him in the arm. "Prepare to eat my dust. Or my snow, in this case."

"We'll see about that…" Reinhardt snorted, stretching his legs and his lower back. What Jack did not understand was that he would do anything for Ana- and winning a bet was no exception, aching knee or not.

They dashed at the command of "go" and boy, was Jack fast. His strides did not seem to register they were running on snow instead of on a track and, in seconds, he was leading the race. Which was expected, but still impressive.

Soon enough, Reinhardt was alone amid the cold white silence of the snowy landscape around the building, and he put on some music to keep things interesting.

Unlike Jack's, his body was not made for running. Yet, the additional effort of sinking in the snow was similar to running in his armour. He grinned as he pressed forward, heart thumping almost in sync with his strides, Hasselhoff blaring on his earbuds. As long as his knee did not fail him, he could convert enough of his endurance into speed to keep Jack from winning.

"On your left!" The Captain said when Reinhardt was barely more than half-way through the first lap. Jack was ungodly fast, that was for sure. His cheeks were pink, his hair wet with snow, and he was laughing.

_Let him laugh. _He would not be able to keep the pace. Reinhardt was positive about it. He remembered his first Winter in Eichenwalde, when his armour was a half-working freezer and he still had to get in it to play war games for the Army. And before that, the Winters in the Black Forest as infantry and as part of the armoured division. Hah. This was nothing, he thought, chasing on.

Seven minutes later, Jack was already on his third lap and Reinhardt had cleared three quarters of one.

"Guess what?" Jack panted as he ran past him again.

His teasing was getting old already, but his strides were slower— he would not make it, not by a long shot, and Reinhardt almost cackled. If he had learned something while protecting their team was that a lot of battles were won by patience alone.

After eleven minutes, Jack was close to finishing his fourth lap and Reinhardt was trying to close their gap as much as possible. He was half way into his second lap and pushing as much as he would go. His tired body was complaining already, so he focused on his breath and his objective. And his breakfast.

Ah, how he hated running.

He turned around a corner and saw Jack trotting slowly in front of him, almost as if he was waiting for Reinhardt to catch up. Almost. Jack turned around at the sound of his footsteps and the panicked look on his face was absolutely worth the burning ache spreading up Reinhardt's legs.

The Captain pushed forward, trying to get his pace back. In his hurry, one of his trainers lost grip and he fell in a spectacular tumble of limbs and snow dust. Reinhardt tried to jump over him, but they were too close; he tripped on one of Jack's flailing limbs and rolled over him in the air to land on the snow a few feet apart.

Well, at least he had ice on everything that hurt, now.

Jack groaned, getting on all fours and then scrambling up. He jumped a couple of times in place, shaking his sweatpants while hissing.

"Bloody snow _everywhere _!"

Reinhardt could not help but chuckle and pant at the same time. He got up slowly, his body resenting all the extra running, and gasped when the muscles around his bad knee cramped and locked it in place.

"You ok there?" Jack walked over to him while rubbing his lower back. "Cramp?"

He grunted as an answer, digging his thumbs on his thigh and running them down the sides of the knee to ease the muscles and the tendons. His leg cramped sometimes as a side-effect of the surgery, but the knee had never locked like this.

It was anything but fun.

"Ah, I was so unlucky," Jack grabbed his waist to help Reinhardt keep his balance as he worked. "You really took me by surprise, there. I wasn't expecting you."

"_ Ja _, you were too busy busting a gut to notice the big German," Reinhardt snorted, testing his weight once he managed to loosen up the cramp. A sharp pain ran through his knee, but it settled quickly in a burning ache. Compression sleeve or not, there would be no more running for him in a couple of days, at least. "Let's go inside, eh?"

"No way," Jack put his hands on his hips. "Not going to finish? What about our bet?"

"I won!" He slapped the Captain in the back, making more snow drop from him." You can't run six laps in the time I clear two. Not even in my worst day."

"What the— I almost had you!" Jack groaned as they walked —or limped- towards the building.

"I cannot hear you over the sweet calling of the breakfast I rightfully won, Jack..."

"You know what? I take it away. You can very well be a jerk when you want."

That made Reinhardt laugh.

Coming back to the building was like getting slapped in the face by a huge, warm, dry hand. The difference in temperature and humidity took Reinhardt's breath away for a moment, but soon he was sighing in content. He could almost taste breakfast already.

The warmth melted the snow on them so quickly that, when he reached the changing rooms, he had to change all his clothes. A long suffering huff coming from Jack's locker made him think he was not the only one with that problem, and he chuckled.

He was dog-tired, but in a better mood altogether.

"I won't accept defeat!" Jack said all of sudden, slamming his locker closed while holding a bunch of clothes that barely hid his nakedness. "If I can lose without evidence, so should you."

"Without evidence?" Reinhardt snorted, taking his wet clothes off. "You were about to drop dead when I reached you, and I just needed-"

"You needed a complete lap, at least! I would have recovered way before you had done even a quarter. This is an absolute abuse. We both should either lose or have a rematch."

That was rubbish. Completely and utterly rubbish. But Reinhardt was still at loss about Ana and should rest his knee. As unfair as it might be, he would need to find medium ground with the super-soldier.

_For now. _

"Ah, damn, I'll go to the practice range with you," Reinhardt said, putting in a dark blue t-shirt. "But tell me what I can get Ana."

Jack looked surprised for a moment, then erupted into laughter.

"Sugar and cinnamon doughnuts. She loves them," he nodded with an amused grin.

"I've never seen her having those…"

"Of course not. They're expensive, and the calories are worth two hours of cycling, at least," Jack put on his boots. "But I always get her one or two when I need help with something specially horrible."

"Then she'll know I've spoken to you…" Reinhardt rubbed the back of his neck, frowning.

"Bake her a cake, then," he shrugged. "Buy her tea. Make her cookies. I don't know what else to say, man. Or," he continued, raising a finger, "you can ask Gabe. He knows her better than I do."

"Just what I had in mind," Reinhardt rolled his eyes. First, baking was out of the picture unless he planned to burn the building down, or worse. Buying tea leaves could be an option, but that would need to wait until he was off-duty. And second, no. No way he would ask Gabriel about this.

"You know," Jack continued, though his tone was more tentative, now. "He is having a rough time with-"

"Really?" Reinhardt snorted, lacing his boots. "Hadn't noticed!"

"It's nothing personal, Reinhardt. Don't-"

"I know. I just happened to screw up, unlike the rest."

"About that, is, you know, something the matter? You were unusually restrained, yesterday."

Reinhardt drew a long breath and considered slamming his head against the nearby wall for not shutting his mouth when he should have. But it was too late, now; Jack was waiting for an answer.

"I was trying to protect the team better," he said slowly, and it was not a lie. Just, it was not all the truth, either.

"Well, you already do a great job. Though, sometimes a good offence is a good defence. Like, when you broke the ground and made them all scramble," Jack made a gesture with his arms. "Actually, that was quite cool."

"Of course it was! Been practicing it a lot," Reinhardt crossed his arms, secretly relieved that Jack did not think he was useless. That made him feel marginally better about the whole thing. "I'll do better next time, promise."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," the other man punched him in the arm, playful. "We all have bad days. Look at Gabe. I'd have killed him when he jumped in the middle of those Bastions."

"You're not the only one…" he snorted. "Does he have the smoke-thing under control, now?"

"He's less angry with the world today, I think," Jack winced, and Reinhardt wondered what sort of conversations and whatnots were happening between the two men. "I've contacted the SEP program this morning and I'm waiting for news, but we need to keep this in secret for now."

Made sense. Having their Commander dissolve like a ghost was not the sort of thing that would help the morale of their troops. Thought, truth to be told, Reinhardt was not exactly apprehensive about that. Maybe he had lived enough battles, super-soldiers, and Omnics to care— or maybe he had charged one time too many against a wall.

"I understand," he nodded. "But, concealing the smoking and that temper will be fun."

"Yeah, I know what you mean…" Jack's shoulder's sagged, and Reinhardt put an arm around them.

"I can always wrestle him," he said with a devilish smile, flexing his free arm. "Give him a beating so he has something to be angry about."

"Fuck man, I didn't know this side of you," Jack seemed half bewildered and half scared for a moment, but then laughed, his stance relaxing. "You know what? You may be onto something here. Mind if I call you if it is, ah, suitable?"

He had not been exactly serious about it but, why not?

"Please do, my friend. But now, breakfast!"

The world looked much, much better with a full belly. And even more with two cinnamon doughnuts safely packed in a paper bag.

"Computer, where's Captain Amari?" Reinhardt asked to a panel on the wall, and it flashed her location in HQ's map; her office, perfect. He looked at his reflection on the screen and ran a hand over his hair; the day he did not ensure he was presentable before going to see a lady was the day he would be dead and buried.

He walked through the corridors, greeting people here and there. He had met many people at HQ— enough to find someone to have a beer with in the afternoons if needed, enough to sometimes share his bed. But something strange had been happening during the past weeks— or was it months? He got deployed so much he did not even know anymore. Lately, finding someone to have fun and unwind for a while had been challenging, and Reinhardt did not know why. He was as handsome as he had always been and, if anything, he was stronger, fitter.

One lady he knew pretty well scurried past him barely waving at him— and it was the third one that did it that morning.

"Emma!" He called her, and she stopped suit, her chubby frame unable to hide the tension on her shoulders.

She turned around, though, a small smile on her face as she pushed her glasses up.

"Hey. I'm busy, can we-?"

"Just have a question! Quick one, really," he smiled, putting a hand on his hip. "Do you-"

"I can't! Sorry!"

She ran away. Literally. She ran down the corridor and left him hanging. Reinhardt turned around to see if there was a big predator behind him —A lion! A dinosaur!- but actually, there was nobody else around.

Damn it, what was wrong?

He stopped by a column that had a polished metallic surface and looked at his reflection. He was not running around naked. He also looked practically like any other morning, though more tired. His hair and beard were as neat as ever. He smiled at the wall, and it showed him back his perfectly aligned teeth.

There was nothing scary or horrible about him that he could notice. Reinhardt scratched his beard and resumed his walking. This was something he needed to investigate, even if he did not know where to start doing so.

He could try to ask more people around. Maybe he had done something wrong, unwillingly? The guys he sat with during breakfast did not seem concerned so, at least, it was only something pertaining the ladies.

Maybe he could ask Jack. He had a sixth sense regarding women.

Ah, but there was Ana's office door, right in front of him at last. All right. Reinhardt looked at the doughnut bag that he had been carefully carrying and reviewed the plan. He would get there, praise her hair and her beauty, then engage in silly conversation while at the door. Nothing awkward, nothing that could be misinterpreted. The bag will be out of her sights at all times, until it was time to show her his hand.

Then, and only then, he would give her the present while emphasising it was a gesture of gratitude. That was it.

Maybe he was being ridiculous, but she had been absolutely adorable last night and it was the first time he gave her a present; he did not want to screw up their relationship over a trea—

The sound of something hitting a surface hard made him look straight at the door. There was an argument. His eyebrows twitched as he recognised Ana and Gabriel's voices, and he rushed into the room.

Both Gabriel and Ana turned in surprise when the door slammed on the wall, their hands already at the gun holsters they were thankfully not carrying.

"Hey," Reinhardt raised his left hand as a greeting, keeping his right one hid behind his back. "Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt."

He grinned, trying to give his cheerful and honest posing a better chance, but his friends were burning him up with their glares. They looked worn-out, unhappy. Angry.

"Did you need anything, Reinhardt?" Ana asked curtly, so different from last night that he felt compelled to punch Gabriel to the moon.

"He probably was looking for me," their Commander straightened, the tension on his shoulders dissipating somewhat— or maybe just changing places, for he was now looking at him as if he was about to go for his throat. "I've heard you wouldn't mind taking me down at the gym."

Oh, Jack had wasted no time.

"I don't mind fighting anyone," Reinhardt said, his smile sharpening. "Anytim-"

He had not even finished talking when Gabriel threw a punch to his ribs- and, no, he did not hold back. Reinhardt parried the attack with his forearm, but almost did not manage to block the second punch in time.

"Hah, all bark, no bite," Gabriel grinned, taunting him with a gesture of his hand. "Come on."

Paper bag and all, Reinhardt made fists with his hands. Gabriel was faster than him any day, so he had to wait for his overconfidence to make an opening for him. Which always happened, if Reinhardt was patient enough. He just had to watch it, even if that meant-

"Gabriel!" Ana hissed through her teeth, grabbing him by one ear and pulling him back to a chair in front of her desk. "I'm going to kill you. And you," she pointed at Reinhardt, burning a hole through him with her glare, "get out of here if you want nothing."

"Nothing that cannot wait," he smiled nervously and took a step back, hitting the door frame with the back of his head. It was only then that he remembered to duck. "I'll catch up with you later, _ja _?"

She only made thin slits with her eyes, and he closed the door on his way out.

Ah, Ana was pissed off, but she would definitely kick Gabriel in the nuts if the need arose and would not have second thoughts about it. Good. Despite knowing this -and he already did before entering her office in the first place- he stayed by the door, listening.

He sighed, pulling out a squeezed, no-longer-round doughnut from the crushed paper bag and ate half of it in one bite while stretching his bad leg. Standing up ached, so he leaned in the wall and ended the doughnut's agony.

He loved how Ana could be sometimes like those Jekyll and Hyde characters, even if he loved it even more when she was relaxed and laughed.

Sometimes she looked at him in a way that made him melt inside, like she did last night. Her golden eyes softened- not as if she was making bedroom eyes at him, but with genuine affection. He could, of course, be delusional about the whole thing. Probably was. Damn, but were the doughnuts good!

Reinhardt looked at the brown bag. He should probably buy her three doughnuts to compensate for meddling in her discussion with Gabriel— but that would be too much. Maybe two and some Apfelstrudel? The one his mom used to make was delicious, that was one of the few things he remembered of her, but the Swiss recipe did not make it justice. If only—

The door opened, and he found himself looking at Gabriel in the eye, who immediately sported his patented know-it-all smirk.

"Hah. I knew you'd still be here," he snorted, closing the door. There was a dangerous fire in his eyes despite his smile. "Ready for round two at the gym?"

No, he was not. His knee would put him at a clear disadvantage. Not to say, he would screw it and his hand even further. No, he would not give him the satisfaction of beating him. Not today, at least.

"Busy, as you see," Reinhardt frowned, finishing the last doughnut. "Not in the mood to fight, now."

"Ah, just like in France," Gabriel cocked his head. "And screwing up as much as then. Yes, don't glare at me," he pointed a finger to him. "I know what happened, now, and you didn't say something was troubling you. You didn't ask for help later. And you haven't check in Med Bay today despite being unfit for duty."

"I'm not unfit for duty," Reinhardt offered him a small, strained smile.

"And when would you consider yourself unfit, then? When you get us all killed?" The Commander's dark eyes bore a hole through him, and Reinhardt gritted his teeth so hard his jaws hurt.

The next he knew, he had grabbed a fistful of the other man's t-shirt and was pulling him up to his toes. His right hand was ready to punch him square in the face, but the pain of squeezing his fingers was a tiny beacon of reason in his mind.

Not because he would hurt his hand, though. Screw it. His only worry was that they were in the corridor, in front of Ana's door, and she would get angry at him again.

Gabriel ran a hand over his goatee, and that was the only thing that betrayed he was thinking his next words twice before saying them.

"I'm just saying that screwing your team like this is not your style, man."

"It's more yours, right?" Reinhardt snapped, letting him go with a shove. "Not communicating with the team, getting out of sight of everyone, jumping into the enemy, being sick and not telling anyone-"

"I'm not sick," Gabriel raised an eyebrow and paced in front of him with slow strides. "And I'm your Commander; I do the finger-pointing, here."

"Of course. Sorry, I forgot my place. The sheer irony of all this got me confused."

"Ah, stop being a pain in the arse," he rolled his eyes. "I know yesterday I rubbed salt on the wound, but cut me some slack. I didn't know you were such a grudge-holder."

"Me," Reinhardt glared at him. "Who started a fight in Ana's office?"

Gabriel's mouth curved into a cheeky smile that did not touch his eyes.

"Yeah, we better go to my office before she kick us both to the Moon," he snorted. "We'll discuss more there."

"That an order?"

"Does it need to be?"

"I don't want to talk more about this. I know what I did wrong, and I already have a plan-"

"Then, it is an order," Gabriel shrugged, but his voice came out sharp, hard. "Get moving, or you're giving me laps around the building until you fall to your face, and _then _we get moving."

"Why? What's there to discuss?" Reinhardt let go a long-suffering growl and started walking. "If you're sending me to the counsellor, then do so already."

"Oh, no, not yet. You interrupted us grown-ups while we were talking, so-"

"Talking? You were yelling at Ana."

"She was yelling at me. Very different story. Very common, too."

That made Reinhardt snort. He would have laughed if he was not dreading the conversation they were about to have. Or about to try to have. Gabriel would not beat around the bush like Jack, and he would probably be the worst person to have a heart-to-heart conversation ever, if Reinhardt was inclined to it. Which he was not.

"Actually, it was such a party, I'm actually glad you crashed it," the Commander continued. "She was delighted about me not telling her about my condition, for yelling at you, for flanking the Omnics and, last but not least, for saving your arse from the Bastions…."

"_ Ja _, don't jump in front of me like that next time. They could have killed you."

"Shall I let you die next time?"

"As much as it pains me sometimes, you are the Commander-" He oofed the end of the sentence when Gabriel punched him in the lower ribs, glaring. "It's true. The world needs you to win the war."

"They need all of _us _to win the war," he grunted. "You will live enough to woo Ana and make me win my bet with Jack."

The bet. It was preposterous that they had bet money on their relationship. Reinhardt had been angry at them at the beginning, but he had grown to place hope on it. If Gabriel, scheming and calculating as he was, bet that it would happen… Well. It sure must mean something, right?

Just, Reinhardt could not see how that was bound to happen, just like he could not see where they were heading.

"Your office is not this way," he mentioned when they got into the elevator.

"Very perceptive," Gabriel pressed the button for the ground floor and stared at the closing doors. A moment later, he rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, and Reinhardt had the certainty that he was about to jump any second, now.

At him. In the elevator.

It would make for an interesting fight. Space constrained, no weapons, and with the additional risk of making the whole cabin fall down the shaft...

It was not going to happen, though. _Probably _. But there was something to do with the way Gabriel carried himself that gave that idea of a predator- and it was not new. Maybe Reinhardt should have noticed something was going on, but the Commander had not been exactly accessible in the last months- oh. Maybe this was why. But, well. If Ana did not know about his problem, what chance did he have?

The elevator dinged, and Gabriel walked out first, heading straight for Med Bay. The moment he opened the large white doors, a nurse was there to greet them.

"Mrs. Handsan, I was hoping to see you," he made a gesture.

"Glad to see you could make it, Commander," she said, walking by their side. "This is for you," she produced a small container with the mark of Med Bay on it from her pouch and gave it to him. "You also said you were ready for the test?"

"No, not me. The Lieutenant will assist you."

"Will I, now?" Reinhardt cocked his head. He did not mind helping any day, but he could feel in the air that it was a trap. Not that the nurse wanted to mess with him; he knew her, she was kind -and not exactly into men. It was Gabriel he did not trust.

"You will, yes," Gabriel snorted, but there was a tiny smirk on his lips. "But I will stay with you so you don't freak out."

"Are you trying to scare me?"

"_ Perhaps _..."

The nurse sighed and made a gesture with her hand.

"Follow me, please."

They entered a small room; the only furniture visible were two cabinets placed in front of a flimsy-looking stretcher. There was a light, too; a security camera, the likes of which they used in the corridors.

Before Reinhardt could even ask why they needed a security camera in a room, the nurse plunged a syringe in his right arm and gave him a shot. No warning, no words. Nothing. He took a step back on instinct, feeling his arm burn.

"Ow, that was not-"

A trail of fire moved from his arm to practically everywhere, and he leaned on the stretcher with a gasp. Its wheels screeched at the weight, but it held- which was good, because he could not move anymore. Or breathe, for that matter. His heart started beating with such strength it hurt, his mouth dried up, and all his mind could think of was how embarrassing would be to die due to a prank instead of in battle.

Because he was going to die._ Right there _.

"That'll pass in a moment," he heard Gabriel's voice in a haze, and he was actually right.

The blazing left a tingling sensation on his muscles, but they responded again. Reinhardt gasped for breath. The air stoked him like a furnace, and he made fists with his hands. He felt incredible. The soreness of his muscles? Gone. The aching on his knee? All but a foggy memory at the back of his mind. He could do anything! Run a mile in ten seconds, lift an elephant. _Any-fucking-thing _.

He turned around to see Gabriel swallow the contents of his med container but then, almost as if the clock had turned back the past six seconds, he wheezed, stumbling up to the wall as his vision clouded in a white haze. Tiredness draped around him, his limbs heavy as if they were strapped in rocks.

"Yeah, I know. Crashing sucks… We are working on it."

The door opened, and he just noticed because he was standing right by it. Small hands touched him here and there and then patted his arm.

"You did good, Lieutenant," she said, pleased. "Now, take it easy for some minutes. You'll be just fine when your blood pressure stabilizes."

_Ja _, just fine. He was _this close _from passing out. Embarrassing. So embarrassing.

"Take a deep breath, man," Gabriel leaned on the wall by his side and grabbed his arm, pulling at him sideways. The motion almost sent him to the ground, but the Commander held him up with his shoulder. "It probably would be better if you sit down, really."

_No more moving, ever, _Reinhardt wanted to say, but he did not dare just yet. His vision was returning, and he could feel the warmth radiating from the other man and the slickness of the wall under his hands.

He managed to turn his head at him, and noticed it was just the two of them in the room, again.

"How's your leg, now? Any better?"

It was difficult to feel anything when his body was pumping adrenaline like crazy but, as his heartbeat stabilized and he could stop panting like a dog, Reinhardt realized his knee was bothering him way less, now.

"What was that?" He panted after what felt an eternity, making fists. His forearms tingled softly as he squeezed his hands, and he could feel every single muscle on his body. At least, he was not dead. And he had not fainted. Not that he remembered.

"It's an experimental drug we are making. We call it _nanoboost _," Gabriel said. "Gives the lucky recipient a burst of energy via a bunch of self-destructing nanites. The body can use the extra energy they generate to heal or over-perform as required. As for now, yes, using it kind of sucks, which is not exactly what we need for combat operations."

"_ Sucks _doesn't make it justice."

"Well, we've not tested it yet in normal humans -well, other than you, but you hardly qualify," he shrugged. "Good to see you didn't drop dead."

Reinhardt peeled himself from the wall slowly, not fully trusting himself yet, but his legs held. He stretched, feeling just fine. Way tired, but fine. He looked at his hand and noticed half of the cuts were now scratches.

Impressive. Why did Overwatch not use it for healing their operatives, then? Other than cost, of course.

"Wait. You said it could have killed me?" He realized, eyebrows shooting up.

"I was _joking _," Gabriel rolled his eyes in a very theatrical way. "Unless you get a double dose or you have a heart condition to begin with," he shook his head, making a face. "Ah, come with me. I'm not done with you yet."

Reinhardt walked after him and realized, not without dread, that they were getting into another room. He felt weak and was _starving _like he had not eaten in a day; he was hardly in any condition to partake into more tests, even more if they were going to be as strenuating as the last.

"Are there more tests?" He asked, hoping his voice concealed his worry.

"No, not until next week," the other man leaned on a table and took a deep breath. "You'll get all the details in your datapad soon enough."

"What? You don't mean-"

"_ Yes _," Gabriel's shoulders shook a bit as he chuckled, though he sounded strained. "I can't play the guinea pig part anymore, the drug doesn't play well with my condition."

Grand. Just grand. Reinhardt rubbed his face with both hands. Shit. And he said _every week _.

He was going to die in a lab, far from battle. Without his armour. Like a _rat _.

"Don't moan. You're the best suitable to continue the tests. Hopefully, the hospital and Overwatch will bring nanites for everyone when the war is over. We just need to help that-" Gabriel stopped talking as if he had just had a huge realization.

Just, it was not that.

He doubled over with a pained gasp, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders dissolving into swirls of black smoke. He held himself on the table and dry-heaved violently, as if he was coming undone from the inside.

"Bloody _useless- _" He groaned, tumbling sideways and holding himself on a wall.

Reinhardt went after him, reaching out in time to put an arm across his shoulders when he was about to fall to his knees. The solid-yet-moving smoky quality of his flesh almost freaked him out; watching it was one thing, but experiencing it— holy shit.

"Hang in there, I'll call someone..."

"No!" The Commander snarled, slapping Reinhardt's arm away and leaving behind a black trail in the air. He circled the table and hold himself on it again, breathing hard and solid enough to crack the plastic surface with his bare hands. "It'll pass. Talk to me. Now!" Gabriel growled among teeth, the desk cracking ominously in the background.

Reinhardt looked around. The way the Commander was writhing and burning everything with his glare made him think of a rabid animal, hurting and despairing. He thought of getting out and look for help- but the door was bolted from the outside. Another camera spying on them made him think this was not an accident, either.

"Fine," he sighed, resigned to play along. "What do I talk about?"

"I don't care! Just talk!" The Commander gasped, doubling over again. "AnythINGNNH-"

Reinhardt's eye travelled across the room as he tried to think of something that could distract his Commander. The room was larger than the previous one, but it had a chair and a bed, this time. And some shelves. It almost looked like a spartan version of his own room.

The camera had a red dot underneath it, and he made a face. Computers never made for good stories. Robots were absolutely out of question, bloody things. Gabriel hissed and groaned in pain, and Reinhardt rubbed his thighs with the heel of his hands.

It was not the first time he had been in this situation, if he did not take the swirling smoke into account, and it was nothing he wanted to remember. Yet, he could not help himself.

Reggar was an absolute dumbarse that had the most stupid ideas possible. He was hilarious to be around, and one of the few people capable of infuriating Balderich.

Reinhardt squeezed his eyes, wishing his last moments away from his mind. It did not work, and Gabriel did not help matters- but, sometimes, remembering better times did.

"There was a place in Bavaria, you know, the bit that used to be a forest at the south of Germany," he grabbed the only chair in the room and sit near the door. "When I was posted there, it was common to see bears and wolves and… It was a nice place," he said, stretching his back. It had been nice before it was levelled to the ground by the Bundeswehr's missiles, rockets, plasma guns, and the Omnics. "Anyway. There was this little village where a candle was always lit. _Always _. Being the bunch of curious guys we were, one day we asked the elders and they said the candle marked the place where the last werewolf of the region was killed. Of course, we laughed our arses off."

"That's all you could think of? A monster story?" The Commander's voice trembled, strained, but there was a hint of amusement on it. "I'd be a better vampire than werewolf, though."

"Don't laugh, I'm not making this up."

"Sure…"

"The candle was there to prevent the werewolves from returning to the village, and the good people always took care of replacing it when it burned down. They kept it dry and protected from the wind," he continued, "but they couldn't really protect it from us bunch of idiots."

It was Reggar's idea, of course it was, and it was the best idea any of them had heard in a month. They did not go to sleep that night and sneaked out of Eichenwalde trying to conceal their footsteps and their laughter. Reggar tripped and broke his nose against the wall, which was even more amusing at the time than the werewolf story, and Johanna almost woke up the whole platoon when she mistakenly opened the cargo door of a gravel truck.

Those two always got in trouble, much more than Reinhardt himself, and that was a feat. So much, that when part of the castle's battlements rained down on them due to 'friendly' fire, he knew exactly whose armours had been crushed beyond hope without even having to take their helmets off.

"Holy shit, man," Gabriel's voice brought him back after what felt a lifetime. "You ever going to continue?"

"Sorry, we-" Reinhardt trailed off, swallowed. "We put off the candle. Of course we did," he dug his fingers on his legs. He hated not having one good goddamn memory that was not soiled by blood and death. "And then, we came back laughing only to find a pack of the biggest wolves we had ever seen. To say we shit ourselves is an understatement."

"No weapons?"

"Just hunting knives. We rushed to relight the candle, got all the wolves into the village."

"Shit."

"The General almost kicked us out of the Army," he let go a shaky chuckle and clamped his mouth shut to swallow the lump in his throat. They served detention for a week and were forced to help the villagers for a month during their time off in the worst of winter, but he could not manage to say that much. "Was fun."

There was a moment of silence only broken by Gabriel's heavy breathing. He stretched out like a cat would, bringing his spine inwards and his shoulders back, and sat on the table, looking at his shaking hands. The smoke was almost contained and, if anything, it flickered softly from his curls.

"Looks like it's shit," Reinhardt said when he trusted his voice would not falter. The other man did not need his stupid problems on top of the smoke.

"It is, when I can't control it."

"And when you can?"

"You saw how I took those Bastions down," he snorted, a little smile on his lips. "Useful. Weird, but useful. And it's not worse than the SEP program, anyway. I'll live. However-"

He stopped talking, frowned. There was an awry look on his face, but it did not seem to be because of the pain, this time. He seemed unhappy. Maybe somewhat embarrassed, too? Reinhardt could not tell for sure.

"This time it was easy, and with these drugs I can more or less choose when it happens," Gabriel continued at last. "But, sometimes, I need help to get it under control. And it breaks Jack every time he has to do it."

Reinhardt may be drained and exhausted, but he heard the silent plea on his voice. It made him take a deep breath.

"Med Bay would only call you in those situations," he continued. "On a normal day I can manage alone or with a nurse on the mic."

Sigh. It sounded like shit, but turning his back to a challenge or someone in need was just not part of his nature.

"Do I get to punch you, though?"

"Only if you can make me solid enough, first," he snorted. It was almost a laugh, but it was bitter, sad, and broken. "Now, how can I help you back?"

That took Reinhardt by surprise.

"I don't need-"

"Don't give me that shit. I'm not Ana, I'm not Torb. I can take you when you're angry. I can fight you. We can train together if you rather bench."

"It's fine, really. Doesn't happen this frequently…"

"It is a fucking order!"

There it was again, the smoking on his shoulders, the blackness on his eyes. It was terrifying to witness— yet Reinhardt felt something akin to sympathy diluting the resentment he held against him. Losing control of his body and his temper like that really sucked. Not to say how painful it looked, as well.

"Fine, you're going to the counsellor the moment we're out," Gabriel growled, hiding half of his face in a hand.

"Aw, wait— Just… " Reinhardt squeezed his eyes for a moment. "I can go with you to the gym, but it was-" Ah, damn. He did not want to say it out loud. But he told Ana about it. Should not be that horrible to tell Gabriel, should it, now? "The place, where we landed, it felt just like-"

Goddamnit. It was horrible. It fucking was, because Ana's gaze was soft and caring, and Gabriel was judging him, and it made all the difference.

"Eichenwalde," the Commander helped out when he stopped talking, and Reinhardt let his head drop. "I imagined that much. But I've never had a report about you that-"

He gritted his teeth all of sudden, squeezing his midsection once again, and Reinhardt made a face.

"Is this a matter of time? Can I do something?"

Gabriel fell on his knees and vomited a black mass that swirled the moment it touched the ground. Reinhardt grimaced. He had seen quite a lot of things in his soldier life already, but that was disgusting. The thing smoked and twirled faintly before dissolving in thin air, its blackness returning to its owner.

_Dis-gus-ting. _

"Ughhh, fuck this shit," the Commander sat on the ground, panting, and leaned his head on the leg of the table. He was pearled with sweat but, at least, it looked like most of the tension on his body had ebbed away.

Reinhardt was trying to remain inconspicuously silent, hoping the other man would forget what they were talking about, but his wrist datapad started beeping and blew his flimsy cover. It was Ana, whose jingly ringtone was the same for all of them in the team.

"You better pick it up. Don't want her here, now," the Commander grunted.

He tapped the datapad's screen and picked up the call, wondering why would she present herself there, of all places. Sure, she had superpowers, but that was far fetched even for her.

"Hey Ana-"

"Hey," she said. Her voice was a bit lower than usual, and she did not seem angry any longer. "I was looking for you, and saw you're at Med Bay..."

The look on Gabriel's eyes said he would have cooed right there if he had not looked like a freighter had run over him and left him for the vultures. But then, he sobered straight away and mouthed '_ don't tell her about me _'. Great.

"I, ah, I'm fine," Reinhardt rubbed the back of his head. "I'm helping on a top-secret drug trial of… some sort."

"You sure you're ok?" Ana put so much emphasis in her words that Reinhardt could imagine her raising her eyebrows perfectly. "I'm in my room now, if you want a coffee. Or some food."

Reinhardt almost choked on his own breath.

"_ Danke _, I'm— I'm just tired," he blurted, trying hard to find the proper English words. "Look, ah, can we speak later? I'm a bit in a tight spot, right now. Top-secret tight spot."

"Sure... See you then."

Ana hung up, and Reinhardt let go a long, long sigh.

"Gabriel," he called, looking at the ceiling for a moment. "Did she just invite me over?"

The Commander laughed. It started as a chuckle, low on his throat, and then he guffawed, holding himself as he winced and chortled at the same time.

"But, I don't understand. She's being so friendly all of sudden-when you're not involved, that's it. Not that I'm complaining," Reinhardt made a gesture with a hand. "But it's _disconcerting _."

And not only that. He was scared this strike of good luck would end as abruptly as it had started, but he would not share that bit with the Commander.

"All of sudden," the other man rolled his eyes. "I can't believe that you, from all people, have not noticed she likes you."

"Ah, don't jest…"

"I'm not, and her concern and her _invitation _to feed you, just proves me right. I have even received complaints from quite many ladies in the base that feel intimidated by her if they approach you."

"Oh? Is that why everyone's running away from-? Wait, what?" Reinhardt looked at Gabriel as if he had turned into a Wolpertinger. Actually, due to his snarky, mischievous nature, chances were he may have been one in disguise all this time- but he was digressing. "Stop pulling my leg, Gabriel!"

"I'm telling you I'm not joking, man," he snorted. "She doesn't look at Jack or me in the same way she looks at you."

Reinhardt rolled his eyes. Fine, he had noticed her soft smiles, but it was not as if they were exclusively for him. Also, to think that she liked him better than two of her favourite people was too bold.

"Suit yourself if you won't believe me," Gabriel shrugged tiredly. "Guess you'll see it for yourself one day."

"Fine. Say, for argument's sake, that I believe you and she's liked me for a while," he crossed his arms. "Why being start being friendly just now and not a while back?"

"Well, I don't have the specifics. But Jack experienced a similar transition; at the beginning, Ana was also cold to him. She was 'giving him space', if you know what I mean."

Yes, he knew it very well. And yes, things between Ana and him were better than they had been years ago, but what happened last night was extremely rare. Sure, she talked to him, they watched films together sometimes, got together on planned team nights, she asked him to play with Fareeha now and then… They had a cordial, friendly relationship, but that was it.

She had been keen to let him know when things got too personal between them, and— well. He sucked at discriminating what was too personal and dreaded her cold shoulders, so he did his best to stick to what he knew worked: work-related conversations, light stories, jokes, the odd hug.

That was why he treasured every time she got out of her way to chat with him, or to show him a film she had not seen, or to tell him about Fareeha. And yesterday, even if he had been plain horrible to her, she still—

He sighed. If only this friendly mood of her would last forever...

"One day she came around and they became _bestest _buddies," Gabriel continued. "But about why now, who knows? She's still quite broken, and I think she doesn't even under-"

"What do you mean, she's _broken _?"

The Commander rubbed his face with his two hands, then let go a long breath.

"Why am I talking to you about Ana, again?"

"Because you've been a piece of shit to me and you want to make up for it somehow?"

Gabriel sighed, looking like an oversized rag doll leaning on the table, legs sprawled in front of himself.

"What I meant is exactly that. Or do you know a lot of people that cold and detached? It takes her ages to let anyone close, if she does. She's absolutely terrible with people, worse than me— _yes _, don't look at me like that."

There was a lot of truth on that. But some people were more reserved than others, and some people just needed their space and time alone. If anything, that was what Reinhardt had always thought about Ana. But, to say she was broken implied something bad had happened.

Something like-

"Ana told me she shared her story with you," Gabriel continued, making a tired gesture with his arm. "So, by now, you should know about Sam. Captain Muramak, you know, the guy that came to visit Fareeha."

"I do," Reinhardt glared. To think he had had him within hand's reach and could not use that opportunity to make him apologise to Ana made his blood pressure rise. "Why did you allow him to get into our base? You should've punched him to oblivion when he showed up."

"Because we needed him," Gabriel sighed. "And Ana needed to face him at some point. Better if she did it with us than alone, am I right?"

"That's one way to look at it…"

"In any case, you must have realised by now how much what happened in Egypt screwed her."

"Of course," Reinhardt huffed softly. "She caused a lot of casualties. They were her friends. Her father, too, I think. That would change anyone."

"That too," the Commander let go a long, exasperated sigh. "But I'm not talking about that, exactly. "

"Then?"

"Man, you are so dense, sometimes," he frowned, rubbing his stomach. "I recommend you talk more to her, now that you're in her good graces."

"This is about Captain Jerk, isn't it?" Reinhardt frowned. "He did something to her. On top of abandoning her and Fareeha, I mean, which is more than enough for me to take a flight to Egypt and strangle him with my bare hands."

"There, there," Gabriel got on his knees slowly and then leaned on the table to get up. He was pale, sweating, but in control of himself. Or, at least, he looked like he was in control. "In any case, don't get yourself all hyped about your new status. It won't give you any chance, at least, until the war is over."

A chance? A chance with her? Reinhardt swallowed. He had not even considered that since- he could not remember when was the last time he allowed himself to dream about that. There was only so much disappointment he could take.

Besides, even if she liked him more now, she did not like him in the way Gabriel was implying. No. That could not be possible because she was _clearly uninterested _, as she had said it to him several times.

But...

"She won't even consider it until she's sure she won't have to make that choice again. So, keep in mind you have a war to win next time you decide you're too stubborn to ask for help."

"I, ah- Is not… _that _," Reinhardt sighed, his shoulders dropping. "Going to the counsellor is useless, and I knew all of you would send me there straight away. I just need some time to sort myself, that's all," he gave him the best grin he could muster. "I manage quite well. Besides, it's not as if we went to a castle every day, is it?"

Gabriel stared at him first in disbelief, then in annoyance. Finally, he shook his head.

"So, this is how you've done it? You've smiled your way out of the counsellour's grasp. They believed you," Gabriel pointed at him. "And so did we."

There was a moment of silence after that where the Commander looked unusually solemn and Reinhardt tried not to squirm.

"I'll call Ana's counsellor and you'll go see him this afternoon," he walked towards him with slow, unsure steps. "He's very good at hopeless cases."

"No, no, no. Have you not heard what I said? I just need-"

"And I told you before, do you want to get us all killed? If not, you'll give this guy a chance. Look at me. You think I like coming here and vomiting black shit? Think again, man."

Reinhardt crossed his arms and grumbled, feeling a knot forming in his guts again. He did not want to talk to another counsellor. He did not want to talk about Germany, period. He just wanted get on with his life, get a present for Ana, and have eight hours of good sleep. Why was it so difficult to understand that the counsellor did not help with any of those?

Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder and leaned his weight on him.

"Come on, now. I'm doing this for your own good," he said, wiping an imaginary tear off his eye. Then, he sobered again. "Don't make me open a file and pull you out of the Strike Team. Understood? If not for yourself, do it for the team."

"_ Are you just blackmailing me? _"

"Whatever works, man," he shrugged.

Reinhardt felt the proverbial knife being plunged on his back and let his head drop. There was not escaping from this one, now.

"Fine. I'll go, since I have no choice… But I don't promise anything."

He would still feel like shit, the counsellor would still not listen, would not _understand _, and Reinhardt would find another way to get rid of his appointments. That, he could promise.

"Good boy," Gabriel patted him in the shoulder as he walked towards the door, but he stopped when he was about to get out. "By the way, about our deal. It would better if you didn't tell Jack. Or Ana. What they don't know doesn't hurt them, am I right?"

"Indeed… But, wait a moment," Reinhardt made slits with his eyes, an evil half-smile painted in his face. "I think… _Ja _. It is my time to blackmail _you _."

"What do you want?" The Commander glared. "I swear I'll kick you in the nuts if you try to talk me out of the counsellor."

"Ah, no, it's not that," Reinhardt leaned on the chair and crossed his arms. "Let's say I wanted to make a gift..."

Many hours later, Reinhardt knocked at Ana and Fareeha's door and swallowed as he waited, hands hidden behind his back.

Ana opened up dressed in a plain shirt and baggy trousers, and she was so cute when she was not wearing her uniform that he almost forgot to say hi.

"Hey. Wasn't sure if I was expecting you at all," she held herself at the door in a way that made dark hair spill over her shoulders, a little smile on her lips. "I am playing games with Fareeha."

"Sorry, I got caught up-"

"Reinhardt!" Fareeha ran to the door and popped underneath her mother's arm, a big grin on her face. "You came to play with us?"

He bit inside his mouth; all he wanted to do was grab them both in his arms and squeeze them against his chest. He could use a hug. Or two. Bloody counsellor had made a wreck of him, and he was still feeling like shit even after a really long shower.

In other circumstances he would have gone straight to the gym to blow off some steam but, due to the forsaken draining effects of the _nanothing _, he was stuck in an emotional roller coaster without a way out.

He was hating every second of it.

At least, this guy had listened to him- which was both good and bad, because he made him talk a lot about Germany and his memories. He had liked Reinhardt's idea of using the holoroom, but he had also asked him to train before the marathon. And, to train, he had asked him to get acquainted with what felt bad and why.

Reinhardt had been tempted to send it all to hell, but he had to give the counsellor something; he had piqued his interest by proposing him a task that both sucked and had good perks.

He just needed to find the little courage he had left after the session.

"I came to bring cake!" He tried to grin, showing them the bundle he had been hiding at his back. Looking at it with huge eyes, the girl took the wrapping off to discover an uneven oval lemon sponge that was a bit burnt on the edges.

"You-" Ana babbled, her eyes almost as big as Fareeha's. "You can bake, now?"

"I'm afraid it was a team effort," he chuckled softly, feeling that the corridor was boiling hot all of sudden. The little Captain eased him from the sweet burden and ran inside with it among giggles. "I whisked the eggs and the flour; that was as much as I could do without causing a catastrophe."

"That's more than I can do," Ana snorted, eyes down, but there was a little smile on her face. "What's the occasion?"

"I wanted to thank you for yesterday," he rubbed the back of his neck. "It's just that, promise," he continued when Ana kept on staring at him in silence.

"It's—It's very sweet of you. Pun intended," her voice was somewhat neutral, but she seemed genuinely happy. "Do you-?"

"I also need to ask something of you," he interrupted her. If she started talking about something else, he would probably lose his cool and the chance to make this work. "If you don't mind humouring me."

"Sure," Ana nodded and fixed a rebellious lock of hair. "What's up?"

"I, ah… I need to talk to someone about home and my team," Reinhardt hooked his thumbs on his belt so he could squeeze it inconspicuously. His cheeks burned, and looking at her in the face was probing to be a feat of strength. "Was wondering if you would mind me telling Fareeha, since...?"

He trailed off when Ana's eyes went down, her mouth pursed. She closed the door behind her, probably to keep little ears off their conversation, and leaned on it.

Shit. Shit, shit, _shit _. He was counting with her friendliness- if she were to push him away now, he did not think he could come back again. Ever.

"Yesterday, I realised that— well. That you would not talk about what mattered," Ana said with a sigh, surprising him. "I'm glad you did, in the end," she looked at him in the eye for a moment, "but I'm sorry I pushed you into a corner. I'm sorry you felt you could not tell me."

His heartbeat skyrocketed.

"Ana…"

"No, let me finish," she snorted and crossed her arms in a way it looked she was holding herself together. "Thanks to my stupid ex I'm—I'm a control-freak. But, if we are to be friends, I need to let you be yourself. I need to trust you with this," she made a vague gesture at them. "So you can come to me without fear."

Her words lit a fire in Reinhardt's chest, and it was so bright that it made the knot in his throat impossible to swallow.

He had dismissed Gabriel's words because they were madness in the mouth of a mad man. But he was right- and Reinhardt was going to kill fucking Captain Bastard really slowly next time he saw him.

"Hey?" She asked in a low voice, her small fingers touching his forearm. "Are you- are you ok?"

"No. Shit day," he wheezed, tears spilling down his cheeks. He wiped them with the heel of his hand, smiling like an idiot while he tried not to break down. Bloody counsellor. Bloody Gabriel. Bloody hell on a toast. "I- This is great. Really. I suck at-"

Reinhardt was going to say _everything _, but sniffled instead. Ana seemed to understand what he meant, though, because she patted his arm and continued:

"The one and only caveat is that, if you abuse my trust, I will strangle you with my bare hands and then I'll eat your heart with a spoon. But I know you won't," she half-smiled, and he barely saw it through the tears.

He wiped his eyes again and grabbed one of her hands to squeeze it softly. He would hug the air out of her, but a reverence seemed more appropriate for this moment of solemnity.

"I won't fail you. Promise," he said in a tight voice.

"You've never failed me… This is on me. Sorry," Ana said in a low voice, rubbing his fingers with her thumb for a moment before letting go. "But you promised me you'd tell me," she hissed a moment later, poking his chest with a finger.

"I promised to tell you if I couldn't be your friend," he shrugged. His face burned, his hands burned. The very air was absolutely on fire, but he tried his best to ignore it. "And, I could. Poorly, but I could."

"_ Please _, complain next time," she almost pouted, her shoulders dropping. "Give me a clue, at-"

"GUUUYS, come on," Fareeha banged on the door. "There's CAKE here!"

"Manners, _habibti! _We're talking," Ana said, then let go a long sigh. "Can I offer you some cake? Don't think I can keep her from bursting out for much longer."

"Thanks, but I, ah, I'd be a horrible guest," Reinhardt half-smiled, then rubbed his eyes again. Impossible as it felt, he still seemed to have tears to shed, even if this time they were not exactly of sadness. "I'd only upset Fareeha."

Ana made her golden eyes into slits as if, all of sudden, she had joined all the dots and realized something she did not liked one bit.

"Do I need to kill Gabriel _again _? He promised me he would not-" she stopped herself in the last moment, pursed her lips, and took a deep breath. "He said he would help, but..."

"He forced me to see your counsellor."

"Oh. I see," her gaze softened straight away, seeping understanding and sympathy. They stood in silence for a moment, one in front another, until Ana continued. "You know, I keep a secret stash of spreadable chocolate for days like this," she said in a low voice. "Best thing to improve your mood- even more when spread on top of a cake."

He could not help but chuckle at the idea of Ana stuffing herself with spreadable chocolate when life made her sad. She was too cute. She would also kill him with the tip of a pen if she was reading his mind right now, but her soft gaze was worth any death.

Ana wrapped an arm around one of his and pulled.

"Come on in. We'll discuss about Fareeha and your stories when you're feeling better."

"You sure?"

She opened the door without a word, and pulled him in.


	11. The Middle Years (1), Aug 2053

Ana had been hiding in a small room atop an old, crumbling hotel for days. It was the first time she was in Istanbul, and she was not sure she wanted to travel there ever again. It was unfair to think like that, provided she had seen nothing else, but she was _so bored. _

The job of a sniper was not exciting unless in combat; it was all about waiting, looking, being patient. Ana could pride herself in the latter, if only because she had to deal with both Jack and Gabriel on top of her usual duties as Captain, but everything had a limit.

Fortunately, her plight was about to end.

Someone knocked at the door which such strength that the old wood cracked— _someone _that would never ever learn what stealth meant. Ana sighed, grabbed the gun strapped on her thigh, and got ready.

She had set up a series of cords so she could pull at one of them and open the door while holding the gun at her head's level— but there was nothing where she was half-expecting a muscular chest.

"What's with the disappointed face?" Torbjörn growled, hands on his hips, way below than where she was pointing at.

"Hey, Torbjörn," Ana put the gun down in its holster and made a gesture for him to come in. "Did you bring food and water?"

"Reinhardt is taking care of that."

She closed the door and took a deep breath. The small room had a couple of windows, one on each side of the building, which was the reason she chose it in the first place. Ana had two rifles set up on tripods, one on each of the windows— but she still could not see the German.

"Stop worrying," Torbjörn left a heavy belt of tools over a dusty table, and the sound made her look at him askance. "He's a big boy. Besides, he can mingle in a crowd if he wants to."

"In a crowd of giants, maybe," she said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. He was way too recognisable, way too easy to follow. "Did you find a safe place for our troops to land?"

"Ah, yes, of course," Torbjörn snapped his fingers, then checked on his pockets for his small but heavy datapad with a tin can sticker on the backside. Its drive was encrypted, and all the communications required three symmetric cipher keys stored in a card that was almost bigger than the datapad itself.

Torbjörn showed her a map of the city on the screen. Their aircraft should not have any problems to get close to their little red dot by the sea— provided the Omnics did not have seafaring anti-air guns, of course. The Hagia Sophia was the big rectangle just by their hideout, easy to spot.

"Here seems a good place," he touched the screen, which then displayed the coordinates and the name of the street. He would never say where it was out loud, in case there was someone listening to their conversation. "There's a good area over here, too, which is not far away," he touched another point. "I'll send these to your datap-"

The door almost dissolved in a cloud of dust and eaten wood after a single, powerful knock, and Ana sighed in relief.

"See?" Torbjörn snorted and went to open the door while she grabbed her gun again. "What did I tell you?"

The door creaked as it opened, miraculously still in one piece, and Reinhardt ducked to save the doorway, a smile already on his lips.

"Hello, my friends!" His voice boomed on the small room, but neither that nor his ever-present smile made Ana stare— his attire did.

Sandals. Shorts that looked like they had been cut out not very carefully from a pair of skinny trousers. Sunglasses and a tank-top hoodie zipped up to the collarbones. On his back, a large military-green bag that had a sleeping bag strapped to it. His hair was dishevelled in uneven spikes and his pale arms were pink— just like his cheeks and nose.

Ana put the gun down, uncocked it, but failed to put it in its holster for three times. The next she knew, she was being squeezed in a bear hug.

"Ah, Ana! You are looking as lovely as ever," he said, his head against hers for a moment. Then, the German left her on the ground and turned to bump fists with the engineer. "Torbjörn! How's Ingrid? Little Frieda's not born yet, right?"

"She's fine, and no. Not yet. And don't start with the names again!" Torbjörn grabbed his beard and pulled at its ends. "Ana, please, stop him. He only listens to you!"

"He listens to nobody," she snorted and shook her head. Reinhardt put his hands over his heart, pouting. "It's true. How many times have I told you not to charge in?"

His laughter echoed on the room, and Ana found herself smiling. The last months had been something else. After they destroyed the last omnium in January, the war was ending. The last God program standing, Hermes, only had whatever units were still operative, and both Jack and Gabriel had been working tirelessly to contain it. Once Overwatch found how to keep it under control, it would be definitely over.

For now, Gabriel had sent every other member of the Strike Team to act as peacekeepers in recently liberated countries; A lot of people were on the edge, and the UN wanted to avoid the genocide of peaceful Omnics. While Ana had seen the Swiss HQ frequently to keep tabs with Fareeha, Gabriel and Jack, she had not seen Reinhardt or Torbjorn in, at least, three months.

It had felt like an eternity.

"Ah, I've missed you," Reinhardt chuckled, echoing her thoughts, and put down the large backpack he was shouldering before sitting down on the ground. "Let's celebrate our reunion with some nice food!"

The room filled with the smell of spices and sour cream as he unpacked a bag containing a handful of kebabs and, for a moment, she found herself transported back in time. Eating on the ground was an Arab tradition that Ana had not practiced since she was a little girl, one she would rather not partake in that wrecked hotel room with the old, stained rug- but the only table was in no better condition, nor she had the means to clean it up.

"I heard water was less than ideal, so I brought tea instead," the German produced two transparent bottles, one containing a red liquid, while the other one was dark, and Torbjörn looked at him as if he had grown another head. "Black tea for Ana. Apple tea for Torbjörn and myself. Ah, stop growling, I know you don't like it, but that's all there was."

"Pah. Next time I'll get the supplies!"

"Sure," Ana rolled her eyes. "But for now, keep an eye on that rifle, would you?" She sat on her legs, trying not to think about what the rug under her had seen and lived through. "I'll watch the other one."

She would not lose three days of trying to spot Omnics to a meal, not at all.

Their mission was to destroy an armed Omnic cell entrenched inside the Hagia Sophia. Though filthy, the hotel was in a privileged position; the building to their right was a fantastic construction around 1500 years old and almost the size of a football stadium. Its main body was crowned with a grandiose white dome and surrounded by smaller domed constructions and minarets— or what was left of them. The war had not been kind to the museum, as it was obvious by the piles of rubble, graffiti, and yes, the Omnics that were using it as a base.

Why had they used it, though, Ana could not guess, but it was time to kick them out of there for good and let the Turk people continue with their lives.

This was one of the last known cells that remained active across the world. _Across the world _. It sounded impossible— and would have been impossible to achieve, if not because of the omnium plans that gave Overwatch the insight to turn the tide of the war.

Ana took a mouthful of her kebab and was instantly delighted. The meat was tender and savoury, and the yogurt was sour enough to make it all blend nicely— sure a sign that the city had begun recovering already.

Peace was at reach, at last. Ah, it did not feel real.

"Did you meet with Sarioglu, Reinhardt?" Torbjörn asked him while eyeing his food, unconvinced. "I've been waiting for him to send the intel about the anti-air guns."

"Ah, yes. We had dinner together just-"

"Wait, so you had dinner and still bought this much food?"

"Well, our Turkish friend almost lives on air! I'm still hungry!" He frowned, then devoured half of his kebab in two bites. "Anyway, yes. He could not make the encryption work, so I asked him to mark the turrets-"

"Not turrets. Anti-air guns!" The engineer interrupted again, making him roll his eyes.

"The _whatevers _, on my datapad."

Holding the bit left of his food with his mouth, Reinhardt rummaged on the backpack again until he produced a datapad with a sticker of a flower on it. Ana bit inside her mouth to stop herself from laughing. Her own datapad had a ginger cat sticker. She knew the whole Strike Team had something or another, courtesy of her daughter, but Fareeha never said which sticker belonged to who, or why. The only thing she said, cryptically, was that it was so they remembered what was important.

What should ginger cats remind to Ana about, she did not know, but she was glad to carry a bit of her darling with her— just, she was not that little anymore. She and another lot of kids of her same age had overgrown the nursery by far, and Gabriel had to make for them a school. It was a temporary solution, Ana knew. They needed to see the world. They needed to talk to other people and socialise outside their Overwatch bubble, because Fareeha asking Ana to hang a poster of Reinhardt on her room was beyond ridiculous.

Once the war was over, they would need to think about the best course of action. Maybe Fareeha would fare best going to a boarding school, where Ana could visit on her free time. Or maybe Ana would not need to be deployed anymore and they could live a normal life as a normal fam-

"Ana, are you ok?" Reinhardt's voice startled her.

"I'm— Was miles away. Sorry," she put her hair behind an ear, embarrassed. "Thinking of Fareeha."

The worry on his face melted into a smile, and he patted her knee with a big hand.

"Ah, you two would be back to your kiddies in no time," he said, leaning back and rubbing his pink nose. A shadow crossed his eyes for a moment, but he was grinning. "They should meet sometime. Maybe when war is over Ingrid and the kids can visit. Ah, I know! We could have a barbecue— Jack's always boasting about his grilling skills!"

"You're eating and yet drooling about more food, you pig!" Torbjörn threw at him a piece of kebab bread to the face, and Reinhardt caught it in his mouth while in flight. Ana almost choked on her tea. "That a challenge? Want to lose again, old man?"

"Who are you calling _old _?"

They threw food at each other making wide parabolas to see who could calculate the angle better, all while Ana munched her kebab undisturbed. She knew, just like they did, that if she got just a breadcrumb on her, there would be _consequences _.

Still, it made her warm inside to see them behave like children despite all the horrible things they have seen and lived through, just like she loved watching Gabriel and Jack bickering over who got to eat the last chip in the bag.

She should actually call Jack, ensure there was no last-minute change of plans and report back the intel they had gained— and she should call Fareeha. When Ana was deployed far from the base for a long time, she tried to talk to her daughter at least, before every mission. Knowing that Fareeha was good and safe always gave her peace of mind, helped her focus. And, in the event that Ana did not make it home, at least Fareeha would have a recent memory of her.

Ah, but to live together away from a military base. That was a dream come true.

As if Overwatch's second in command knew she had been thinking about him, her wrist datapad flashed to life. The call was encrypted, and she had to provide both her fingerprints and a password to accept it.

"Hey, Ana," Jack grumped a greeting. "How's things?"

"Good, it's-" the two guys yelled a loud _hello _so Jack could hear them, and Ana almost laughed out loud. "Yeah, that."

"So much for stealth."

"It's fine. We're safe here," she put her hair behind her ears. "Did you get all the intel?"

"Yes, the team is flying right now, ETA twenty minutes. I'm marking the landing spot on your maps."

"Ah, I'll be on my way there in a minute," Reinhardt said, stuffing more kebab on his mouth like it was nothing and getting up.

"The local authorities have started the evacuation already, so it should be all clear for the morning job," Jack continued. "Ah, the UN council had asked us to not to destroy the Hagia Sophia. It's one of the few heritage sites that had not been levelled during the war."

"Cannot promise anything," Torbjörn waved a hand. "You know how much the Omnics like to entrench."

"I do, indeed," he sighed. He got injured in their last mission while they were destroying the last Omnic redoubt in Belgium and was still recovering despite the nanites and his super-soldier healing. "Foremost, be safe out there."

He cut the transmission, and Ana watched Reinhardt pick up his bag and shoulder it again. They would split for a while; he would make sure everything was safe for landing, then Ana and Torbjörn would be on their way too to get some rest and prepare for the morning.

"Well, I'll keep you posted. Bring the leftovers," he grinned, and the door almost did not survive his strength when he left.

The Hagia Sophia was, intrinsically, an open-plan squared museum with humongous columns, quite a high dome on top of their heads, and an arcaded second floor that offered views to the centre of the mosque. It was the worst defensive place possible- or it should have been, if the Omnics had not erected so many wall-like constructions that it felt like they were in a maze. The arcaded second floor was almost more like a big corridor than a floor itself, planned this way by the last architect that dared to touch the wonder of the world so more people could admire its beauty. Yet, it was now crawling with things that could shoot at them; random Omnics, turrets and, at least a bunch of Bastion tanks.

Yes, _tanks _.

Ana was not naïve enough to think everything would go perfectly; nothing ever did. But really, deploying tanks inside the wonder of the world was the worst. It was not just the building itself, but the whole place was a museum- the collections were still hanging around, since looters would never approach the place and the Omnics had no use for them. The last thing she wanted was to see more human heritage blown up and lost, but they may not have a way to avoid it.

It would have been easy to get inside the building with some good firepower, trench behind their barriers, and melt the Omnics, but the maze walls were electrified and made of a hard alloy their engineers could not melt or break through easily. Basically, they were playing the Omnic's hand trying to salvage the building and its contents.

For now.

"Barrier won't hold forever!" Reinhardt's voice boomed in the comms as his shield protecting their front-line from the Bastion's shells as they tried to squeeze at the wall. They were not exactly in the open— to their left there was one of the building's stone walls, twenty feet to their right continued the maze, and covering half that the space over their heads was the second floor. Yet, enclosed spaces where the worse when dealing with explosions. "Need to kill that tank, now!"

"We are trying," Ana said from the back, reloading her rifle for the umpteenth time already. "But they have a lot of firepower and we don't have a barrier to cover us, here."

The wall structures looked strangely organic despite the rough, sharp edges, and they were usually in the way of Ana's shots. It was shit, because she needed the high ground to be effective, and they had not even reached the stairs up yet. Nor they would, if they could not kill the Bastions attacking them.

They were not expecting a massive amount of resistance- and up to now, they had been progressing just fine. Of course, Omnics never made it easy for them, but the tanks made she think they were protecting something.

"We're on it," by her side, Torbjörn and his engineers were erecting a stationary half-dome to help Reinhardt protect them while they were in a strangely open section of the maze. Sarioglu had informed them of the interesting pattern inside the building, which was why the engineer had insisted on taking the additional barriers despite their weight and size. Ana was glad to have listened to him.

The blue and curved barrier, a replica of the technology in Reinhardt's armour, hummed to life not a moment too soon, and the Crusader ducked and got under cover. Now that was sorted for some seconds —which was the time it would take the Omnics to destroy the new barrier— Torbjörn was getting one of his turrets ready, pulling parts from his oversized backpack like he had a bloody engineering supermarket there.

Ana hated Bastion tanks in particular because she did not know of any weak spots to exploit, unlike their turret counterparts— or any other Omnic, really. With a frustrated grunt, she shot a flimsy-looking one in the head and made it fell from the second floor. At least, their soldiers were seasoned and well trained; she could rely on them to make a dent on the enemy forces even in bad circumstances. It was a matter of time they would blow the tank to pieces.

"That sounds like trouble…" Torbjörn said. A moment later, Ana heard a sizzling sound. "What…?"

"Get away from here, now!" Reinhardt yelled, running in front of several of their soldiers and deploying his still cracking barrier.

"Why? What kind of trouble? What's-?" Ana could only register a green glow coming from the second floor before a something hit Reinhardt's barrier straight on, exploding on contact and breaking it to smithereens before sending the Crusader flying backward several feet.

The stationary barrier deployed several feet to the right absorbed the rest of the explosion before breaking, but the heat wave made Ana curl on her knees and hid her face on them. The air almost burned her throat, her eyes, her ears— and, for a moment, she could only think they would not make it. When the roaring stopped and she could look back again, the column she was using as a hiding spot was sizzling and part of the rock had crystalised. Several of their soldiers lying on the ground almost carbonised.

Shit.

"Reinhardt?" She called, and the German answered with a heartfelt groan. He was in all fours after having crashed into the building's wall— which now sported a Crusader-sized dent. "Torbjörn, what the hell was that?" She asked, trying to spot the offender on the second floor and just seeing incoming bullets and walls. Walls. Of course, one of them must move to allow such a blast to go through.

"A plasma pulse, I think," he said. "From quite a big gun. Nothing mine, thankfully."

"Start thinking about how we deal with it," Ana continued, then switched to the general comms. "Team, deploy all the stationary barriers. We won't move from here until we clear up that tank and all the second floor in front of us."

A second barrier just hummed into life. If their engineers hurried up, they could get the third one up before the second was completely gone.

"Torbjörn, half the systems are flashing red," Reinhardt called on the comms after a while, voice strained.

"Of course they are red! You're lucky if something works after getting hit face-first by plasma like that. If your barrier hadn't repelled the incoming bunch of electrons, they would have melted through you!" The engineer growled, but then his voice softened somewhat. "Tell me they didn't melt through you."

"Not melted. Just got really, _really _hot," he sighed. "Can you fix my armour?"

"Circuits are probably toasted, so nope, unless I can replace them. What's dead?"

"Shield generator, main vents, half the functions of the left hand, ah… And something else I cannot read. Too on the left of the display."

The news made Ana want to pinch her eyes. It was not his fault, getting angry at him would solve nothing, yet she had to bit a curse. Fine. They would manage. Somehow.

"Torbjörn, try to fix whatever you can," she told the engineer while recharging her rifle. "Give me some good news, if you can."

She had not finished saying that when she had to roll on the ground to avoid a round of bullets. Her enhanced eyes saw their enemy even before she stopped rolling, and cursed inwardly.

"We've company at the rear!"

Three OR-14s dropped in the middle of their soldiers from the second floor, raining dead all over the place. It was lucky they were not Bastions, but the OR-14s seemed to have plating even on their led eyes, and their automatic weapon was no laughing matter, either.

"Did I say we're in trouble, here?" Ana retreated with some soldiers, bullets flying around her as she ran to hide behind a corner. Heart thumping, she leaned the rifle on her knee and took a peek— and a shot. She hit one of the OR's heads, blowing an eye to pieces— just, they had three more. And even blinding it did not damage them enough to disable them, most of the times.

Reinhardt was at the opposite side of the corridor, trying to cover the engineers with his body before they were annihilated. On top of it, their second half-dome barrier flicked at the umpteenth tank shell.

"Get to cover— find a corner, anywhere!" He yelled, covering his head against the bullets for a moment. Then, he swiped his massive hammer on the ground and fired a half-moon of plasma at the ORs. It was always more spectacular than effective, but things were getting desperate.

"Reinhardt, I don't think there's ever been a better time to charge…" Ana said, taking another shot. Her hiding spot was being constantly attacked, and the other four soldiers by her side were having a lot of trouble trying to divert the fire from the German and the rest of their troops.

"I can't!" He said as he dashed forward, bullets mostly rebounding on his armour. One of the OR-14s was directly attacking him, its gun-arm pointing straight to his head, while the other two were walking over the corner where Ana was hiding— and not she or the soldiers with her had the firepower to stop them straight.

Soon, the sound of bullets firing and the Omnics' servos were almost all Ana could hear. Someone yelled in the comms that their second barrier was down, and a tank shell exploded in the corridor, raining dust and shards all over the place.

She looked back; there was only corridor behind them, and they would not run fast enough under fire to make it to the next corner. One soldier fell to the ground with a cry of pain, and the next she knew, she had a gun to her face. A gun that was reloading just in that same moment.

Without even thinking, she hit the OR's arm with the butt of her rifle. Had it been a person, she would have broken their nose at the very least, but the Omnic did not even budge. What it did, though, was unsheathe the sword hidden in its left arm, which glowed red-hot in a moment.

Shit.

Ana rolled on the ground again as it took a swing at her, covering her head instinctively with a hand as she got up; the soldiers with her were emptying their clips at the OR at such short range that the bullets rebounding on the plate were more dangerous than the Omnic itself.

And, suddenly, the OR was gone. On its wake, there was a rush of silver.

_Finally. _

So much for not being able to charge, she snorted, watching them fly past her. The stone slabs on the ground were coming apart as they headed for a wall— Wait, _coming apart _? The OR-14 had grown more legs, if such a thing was possible, and was countering the Crusader's momentum. The engine on his armour died all of sudden and they tilted dangerously before crashing.

Ana had to blink at the scenario. Did the OR-14 counter his charge, or did the engine died on him— maybe another casualty of the plasma pulse? Or maybe both?

The momentum made them roll on the ground in a ruckus of limbs and metallic noises, and she winced in sympathy; it was not a good day for the Crusader.

She cried out in surprise when the wall by her side was blown up to dust by the second-floor _friendly _Bastion tank, and rolled away promptly away to avoid being hit by shrapnel. Her ears rang, hurting all the way down her teeth, and she hated, _really hated _explosions with all her might.

"We are sitting ducks to that tank!" Torbjörn exclaimed on the comms right after, and she wanted to strangle him enough to make his voice stop echoing in her poor head. It was obvious that the Bastion was a problem, yet there was still two OR-14— wait, where was the second one? A quick scan revealed it was lying in a pile of crushed parts on a side— parts their engineers were trying to salvage already. Good! The team may still live enough to see the next two minutes.

Ana shot straight to the head of the remaining Omnic. It was much easier when she was not under fire, being attacked with a blade, or shoot at by a tank. Much easier.

"Reinhardt, you need a hand there?" She asked, reloading and taking another shot. He had been awfully silent for the last minutes, though she could hear metal clanking at her back.

Her target fell to the ground when a very courageous engineer sliced through one of its rear legs with a plasma cutter, and Ana decided they could deal with the aftermath just fine. She turned around to help the Crusader finish his fight, and what she saw made her blink; Reinhardt had the OR-14 pinned on the ground and was punching it like there was no tomorrow, each blow sending sparks out of the twitching Omnic.

The OR's head detached after a vicious, barbaric blow, and he leaned forward, hands on his knees, breathing heavily.

"Reinhardt?" Ana called, not moving an inch other than to stay as protected as possible from enemy fire.

The Crusader tensed for a moment and got up, grabbing his hammer on the way. Then, he brought it over his head on what it seemed a titanic effort and slammed it against the OR-14's midsection, destroying the Omnic despite the poor grip of his left hand.

When he turned, holding himself tall and proud of his deed yet tired, he was still silent. His armour was dented in places, probably due to the two rough landings, had bullets lodged here and there, and sported several scalpel-like cuts on it, too— the most noticeable one, a diagonal line on his helmet that reached the visor and had cracked it.

He stared in her direction for a moment, his shoulders relaxing somewhat, then smacked the helmet with a hand a couple of times.

"-hear me, now?" The audio was broken, he was out of wind, but his voice seeped happiness. Ana let go a breath she did not know she was holding. Shit. While he was smashing the OR-14, she thought he had snapped for good.

"Yeah, at last," she nodded and checked her rifle. It was all set and ready to keep on fighting. Good. "Are you-?

"Oh, you two are alive?" Torbjörn's gruff voice boomed on the comms. "I thought you were goners since we had to deal with the tank and the OR _on our own _!"

"We were busy, here."

"Hah."

Ana looked at their team and saw the three barriers deployed and soaking Omnic fire. It looked like heaven, provided the Omnics would not shoot the bloody plasma thing again on them. On a second look, she noticed Torbjörn had moved all the barriers to the side; maybe he had figured out where the green bolt came from.

She took a bunch of shots to get the Omics to scatter or just plain _die _, and Reinhardt and she rushed under the cover of their barriers. The Crusader slumped on the ground by the pillar where Ana had been hiding before —had he limped the last few feet?- and Torbjörn appeared from nowhere holding a bunch of tools.

Their soldiers were protected behind the barriers, shooting up and down to keep the enemy fire to a minimum, and Ana felt a burst of pride. Good people. She would treat them when they made it home, she thought, getting her datapad and going one by one over all the security measures that would unlock it. It was time they stopped screwing around, wonder of the world or not.

"Main power supply is inoperative," Reinhardt's voice sounded distorted under his helmet. "And the backup one is almost depleted."

"You are damn lucky to be alive, as usual," the engineer sighed while touching the armour here and there. "Damn it, Reinhardt. Don't get in the fire of a plasma cannon next time."

"Hardly my fault…"

"Ah, Ana, grab his helmet, and pull when I tell you."

Datapad just unlocked, she looked at the engineer with a raised eyebrow. It was not like he did not have minions to help him out, but they seemed to be assisting the soldiers and keeping the barriers operational. With a little snort, she walked towards them, pocketed the datapad for a moment, and put her hands on the sides of his helmet, her thumb tracing the line crossing it without even thinking. Once Torbjörn poked at her, she pulled the helmet up.

The German leaned his head on the pillar, smiling the moment he spotted her. His golden hair was sticking to his scalp with sweat and blood, and Ana frowned.

"Medic to my position, please," she called in the comms as she parted his hair to check the wound.

"It's just a bump," he made a gesture with an arm, but that did not faze her. After seeing him destroying that OR-14 like a deranged savage, she better double check with a doctor. Just in case. "It was the wall. Or the floor. Not sure any longer- ah, that probably hurts my case, doesn't it?"

Torbjörn opened up the armour's chest piece, which made the German tense and flex his arms to keep the rest in place. He seemed to be in one piece, though surely bruised and sore. And he could not stop grinning like a maniac.

"What is so damn funny?" She snorted. As much as she was trying, she could just read that his happiness was not due to his usual 'I'm having fun at cracking Omnic heads'. That involved more laughing, taunting, and flexing.

"Ah, let him be happy to compensate for both of us," Torbjörn produced some strange pen-like screwdriver and used it to, apparently, take some readings. Ana looked at the Crusader, expecting an answer.

"I had, ah, _unfinished business _, with the ORs," he said, making a face. "You saw me charge it?"

"Yes. It did not look very effective."

"_ Ja _, that's part of the _business _," his smile wavered just like she had seen it do many times when he talked about the past, but then it came back wider than before. He had come a long way since he started telling stories to Fareeha regularly, and she could not be prouder. "But now I know how to counter that, and it feels damn good to break them to pieces! The bastards. Wait until I get my hands on another!"

So, he was not insane, after all. Or, not any more than usual, at least.

"I don't even know how you managed. The circuits to the main power supply are fried up, as I thought," Torbjörn continued. "I've been looking for parts _as well _while you had fun, but I don't think I can fix it. What I may do is route the power that's still on it to the backup generator— charge it up, so to speak."

"It'll overheat and the battery will end up melting," Reinhardt frowned, and then half-winced as the medic poked his head here and there. "Now I still can handle the hammer, at least."

"Pah," Torbjörn snorted. "The charge almost dried up the backup generator for good— you're running in the lowest power settings, it's a miracle the gauntlets still work. And even if they do," he continued, pointing at him with the screwdriver-pen-thing, "don't think I don't know you are powerlifting the hammer _plus _the armour. You'll throw out your back in the next three swings."

Ana sighed and took the datapad back to call Sarioglu. While communication got established, she perched on a pile of half-broken of rubble that had fallen from the second-floor balcony. The position did not give her an advantage over the tall walls but, at least, she could help with the second floor better.

"Captain Amari. How's things in the Hagia Sophia?" Their contact in the Turkish Resistance asked, his accent thick yet similar to Ana's.

"The bloody Omnics are entrenched with a _plasma cannon _, Sarioglu," she growled, taking a couple shots. "They almost blew us up to pieces. Why weren't we informed of it?"

"A plasma cannon? Oh, that's— Well, we didn't-"

"This will end poorly," Reinhardt's concerned voice made her turn her head towards them again. He was leaning forward to give Torbjörn access to his back, and the engineer was hooking a half-burned cord from the battery on the front to somewhere near the engine. "For me!"

"Ah, shut it. I've done this hundreds of times."

"No, you've not!"

She saw the German roll his eyes to the ceiling with that exasperated expression only Torbjörn could get out of him, and then realised her comms were too quiet.

"Sarioglu?"

"I'm here. You stopped receiving me, I think. I said we are ready to assist you."

"Good. Bring any barrier you have," she nodded to-one in particular. "I'll call you when ready. Amari out."

It was not the best plan. It was not even a plan, yet, but they needed the firepower. Now, if she remembered correctly, the resistance had half a platoon of infantry more or less armed, plus a dozen rocket-launchers. Blowing the place to oblivion was not exactly what she was looking forward to doing, but it was definitely a way to get rid of that cannon.

"All set and done, you crybaby," Torbjörn disconnected the now charred cord and almost shoved it in the Crusader's face. Then, he pushed the chest plate together and hooked everything back in place. "Just don't charge, or you'll eat the battery again— and it will not survive a second recharge like this."

Reinhardt got up with more ease and made fists with the armoured gauntlets —even though two fingers on the left hand did not move. The doctor had reported nothing to her, so he was fine. Still smiling, his hair curling so slightly now that it was drying.

"Understood," he nodded, then put his helmet on. The cracked visor lightened up- or part of it did, at least.

"I guess the barrier is still out of order?" Ana asked, making him turn towards her. He rolled his shoulders and picked up his hammer and, for some reason, she wondered what would be like perching on his back while attacking. It would probably be suicidal and _fun _at the same time.

" _Ja _, sorry," he said on the comms, and she nodded. It would have to make do.

"We need a plan to clean the rest of this place. I've called Sarioglu— the Resistance will come to assist us. Torbjörn, did you learn anything about the plasma cannon?"

"Well, I know one thing for sure. It is not like a plasma barrier- it is not a projection of atoms in a grid that can be stabilised in a relatively small cell," he said, knocking his knuckles against the Crusader's armour. "It is a burst of furious, sped up particles, and that requires a lot of energy and cannot be kept in a battery, so to speak."

"So?" Ana asked, frowning. She was not dumb at all, yet could not imagine for the life of her where the engineer was going with all that.

"So, the cannon itself must be large and also must use quite a big power supply. We don't have intel about Omnics hijacking any electricity grid…"

"You think there's nuclear reactor _here _?" Reinhardt asked, bewildered.

"Of course not," Ana could imagine the engineer rolling his eyes. "But, if you notice the background noise, there's a turbine somewhere that they may be using for their purposes. So, I bet their stupid cannon will take a while to charge up."

"How much is 'a while'?"

"I don't know, between ten and twenty minutes. Probably," he said, hammering rhythmically on the gun of a turret he had just built to make it straight. "Heh, this will keep them entertained for a while if they show their ugly mugs."

"We don't have long, then," she took a deep breath. "We need to move, take the high ground. Doesn't seem to be many of them left, there. Once up, we use Sarioglu's rocket launchers to destroy any resistance at the back of the building."

"What would you have me doing?" The Crusader asked, sounding chaffed.

"Help Torbjörn move the barriers. When that's done and we engage, cover our rear and go get Sarioglu. We don't want more surprises like the last one."

"Roger."

"Let's go."

With the pertinent orders, the team moved one barrier first. The walls were taller than Reinhardt, so adventuring past a corner was a lottery. The Crusader walked forward with the anchor points of one of their barriers and dropped them whenever he encountered a turret or an Omnic and, little by little, they moved closer to the stairs to the second level.

Finding so little resistance was getting on Ana's nerves, and she was dreading the moment they would encounter a sentry-mode Bastion head-on waiting for them.

Because it would happen.

A pained grunt from Reinhardt and the unmistakable sound of a machine gun made her cringe. Jackpot. What she was not prepared for was for the Crusader to grab his hammer in his two hands, lift it over his head, and crush the Bastion to oblivion.

"Efficient," she said in the comms, to which he just flexed his bulky arms.

"I'm so not fixing your armour this time, show-off," Torbjörn pushed him. "Get moving. I don't want us to be here when the cannon fires again. We're still very much in its trajectory. That, if it cannot change places."

Ana could not agree more. The good thing was, this was not an omnium. There were not _infinite _Omnics there to attack them, and they must have taken down already most of the heavy hitters.

Several minutes later they had got out of the maze and on the staircase. Before Reinhardt could climb up the steps, the engineer grabbed one of his legs and knocked his knuckles against the armour.

"Wait, waaait a moment, Reinhardt," he snorted, and looked for something in his backpack, producing a… _something _. Rubbish, probably, with cables and broken parts. Then, he threw it up the stairs into the second floor.

There was a buzzing, and then, a flash of light and the zapping sound of several high-intensity lasers. What fell back to them was a fraction of what had gone up, burned up and perforated.

Reinhardt looked down at the charred remains that rebounded to his feet, and Ana could swear he was sweating.

"Thank you, my friend!"

"It's nothing. I just _think _before acting," Torbjörn waved a hand. "Now, look at this and brace yourself for awesomeness."

He produced a cube from his backpack that unfolded in several reflective panels. He was _grinning _when he threw it up the staircase.

There was quite more buzzing and zapping, and also the sound of electronics frying up and sparkling. The mirror-like device came back down, rebounding on the steps and, when Torbjörn picked it up, it barely showed burning marks.

"Good boy," he chuckled. "One more time, for the people at the back."

He threw it back up, this time with more strength, and there was only a bit of zapping this time before the device rebounded back to them.

"Ok, it is _mostly _safe, now. You can-"

Reinhardt was already trotting up, hammer in his hands, before Torbjörn could even finish speaking.

"Aha!" The German exclaimed, and there was a lot of cracking, crashing, and crunching noises that Ana ignored for the sake of her mental health. Their soldiers at the rear were still firing, since there seemed to be an unholy number of the most basic infantry Omnics coming at them from the high ground, but everything seemed to be under control so far.

Good. They may still pull this off without destroying the whole building.

"All clear," Reinhardt came back almost without laser marks on his armour, and grabbed the anchor points of one barrier before getting back to the second floor. Part of what should be balcony was covered in organic-looking Omnic walls. And it was handy; the moment they showed up there, the Omnics at the back of the building shot towards their position. If Ana's idea of the building was correct, they have got in the Hagia Sophia on the eastern wing, and they were now in the southern wing's second floor. The enemy shoots should come skewed, which would also help them until they reached the eastern part of the second floor.

The only downside was that their team would be straight in front of where the plasma cannon should be. That, if it could not be moved on rails. Another surprise ambush would suck.

Ana cocked her rifle and sighed. At least, she had got the high ground. It was about time. Crouching on the ground, she tapped at her wrist datapad.

"Sarioglu, we're almost there," she said. "I'll send Reinhardt to fetch you. Be ready."

"Roger," the Turk answered, and she cut out the communications.

"Reinhardt, go to the entrance, get Sarioglu and his team," she said in the comms. "Don't get up here with us just yet, hold your ground downstairs. Don't want all of us in the same place, in case the cannon's ready."

"Understood," he replied, leaving one barrier in such a way it covered an opening between walls. Torbjörn was already building a turret there, and a couple of soldiers were on their knees, shooting. "Will bring them close to the stairs."

"Right. When you are ready, we swap out."

The Crusader marched away, and she looked for a position from which she could watch his back. He should not find much resistance in his way back, yet she would not risk it. Not when half his armour was not working.

A couple of Torbjörn's turrets kept on shooting rhythmically, and Ana missed being able to put on some music. It had been a long time now since she went on a mission with Jack or Gabriel being in charge, where she could relax and just _kill _as she was supposed to do.

Well, she would have time to relax when the war was over.

"How are we doing?" She asked in the comms, and then received a trickle of information from their troops. Barriers were deployed, they controlled the front and back exits to their positions so far, did not have good visibility to shoot their objective, and had no sign of the plasma cannon. Good. But also bad. The notion that they were running out of time before it shot again was nagging at the back of her mind. "Keep your eyes open for any glowing. That's our main priority after holding our position. Reinhardt?"

"Almost at the door, now."

Good. The plan was simple. Reinhardt and Sarioglu would come back to them. They would hold their position down the stairs where there should be minimum resistance. Ana and Torbjörn would pick up the barriers and move forward, getting on the northern part of the second floor, where they would have direct visibility over the enemy and be under heavy fire. They would keep the enemies engaged while Sarioglu's rocketeers get up the stairs and blast walls and anything in their way to the back of the building in a forty-five-degree angle.

While that was in motion, she would send Reinhardt, Torbjörn, and a bunch of soldiers further ahead in the second floor to deal with any remaining Omnic and the blasted cannon.

That should be enough to soften the opposition enough so they could get down there and finish them for good.

A tank shell made its way towards them, exploding in one of the Omnic-made walls making a hell of a lot of noise. The wall got a dent on it but it did not budge otherwise. Those shits were strong as hell, Ana frowned.

"Coming your way, Captain," Reinhardt said on the comms, and she took a deep breath. Time for the fun.

At her command, the engineers grabbed two of their three barriers and moved them forwards, closer to the corner between the southern and eastern sides. Enemy firepower intensified the moment the Omnics had a better angle at them, but their soldiers could say the same thing. Ana kept her original position, lying on her belly while following the Crusader and now Sarioglu and his troops around.

The Omnics seemed to have built some extra auto-turrets that crawled on top of the walls, but they were easy to deal with. What was crap, though, was the tank firing at them. And the cannon. The bloody cannon.

"Everyone, ready to switch?" Ana got up once she noticed the newcomers were at the stairs and ran through the barrier to regroup with Torbjörn at a corner between both corridors. The engineer was building a couple of turrets, the backpack he was shouldering looking considerably smaller already. He gave her a nod while hammering

There was a bunch of "ayes", and Ana gave the order to strike. If all went as planned, they would be back at HQ by night time.

She advanced with her team, keeping herself out of trouble and looking around to ensure the rest were doing fine. Soon, the noise increased to a horrible cacophony of explosions, machine guns, and shots of different types, and she really, _really _missed her music when her ears started hurting.

Reinhardt got by her side, glanced at her briefly, and kept going to meet with Torbjörn. The engineer had put together a long-range weapon and was building it some legs from strange-looking parts.

"We need more firepower!" A soldier directly in front of the Omnics cried out, and a moment later one of their barriers blew up to pieces.

Ana frowned and looked around; the incoming fire came from below instead of from the front.

"Torbjörn, Reinhardt, you two go to check on the cannon. Fall back immediately if there's any danger, understood? The rest, reinforce our position."

She could barely hear herself over the explosions, but everyone moved around, so they seemed clear on their orders. Ana prepared her rifle again even if it was almost impossible to see anything among the dust and smoke.

"You five go with Captain Amari," Sarioglu's voice echoed among the noise. "The rest, keep firing!"

Good thinking. The engineers were rotating the barriers to make sure there was always one with some charge on it, but they took forever to recharge. Some rocketeers in the front line would help keep the Omnics at bay.

They could do this.

A tank shell impacted on one of the big pillars of the building, making rocks and dust explode in all directions. Glass rained from the windows above, and Ana ran to get cover deeper in the corridor. A big chunk of rocks fell on the corridor, smashing it to pieces that crumbled down to the first floor.

Fuck, they did not have much protection against the bastards blowing the building up. Ears ringing, she checked up the damage; some of their soldiers seemed to have been caught in the landslide, and there was no way to cross to the side with the stairs easily. They were all trapped on the second floor, for now.

"Torbjörn, need you here to find us way to get down safely ASAP."

"Can't, now!" He squeaked. She glimpsed the Crusader's hammer; they were fighting something, but that did not seem to be the problem. "Found the cannon and have bad news! BAD! It's overloading!"

"Can you fix it?" Ana said, trying to remain calm. "Unplug it, somehow?"

"Can I smash it to pieces?" Reinhardt pitched in.

"No, NO!" The engineer growled, and Ana could imagine him checking up the cannon while bitting the tip of his tongue. "Reinhardt, try to turn it to the side, _carefully _."

Ana stopped firing. She stopped even looking through the scope and tried to find her friends. Thankfully, Reinhardt was always easy to spot, which also told her where the cannon was. She had a good idea of the destructive power, but not of the size of the beam. Would their barriers be able to contain it, cracking as badly as they were? Would they survive the heatwave?

"Won't budge," the Crusader grunted on the comms.

"Shit. _Shit _. Get to the corner, all of you, curl under the barriers and _pray _. I will blow it up before it overloads completely."

"You sure? That sounds like something I would do…"

"Shut up and help me!"

Ana felt her throat drying. Ok. She trusted him. If blowing it up now was better than let it overcharge and blow up later on, they would go ahead with the plan- even if all fibers of her body said it was nuts.

"Everyone, grab the barriers and come to the corner ASAP!" She called on the comms.

"What's happening?" Sarioglu asked the moment he reached her position. "The Omnics are mostly done for, we should keep attacking."

He blanched the moment Ana explained the situation to him.

"Got a fuse. Or something that would work as good as one- but it's short," Torbjörn said in the comms, clearly talking to Reinhardt. "Can you take us away from here fast enough?"

"Of course! I'll pick you up, run to the end, and charge down the hall. We'll be under the barrier in no time."

The moment he said that, Ana's breath hitched. Then, she looked at their positioning and made sure there was enough space for him to brake while injuring no one. Shit. Could not believe they would eat a blast straight-on again.

"Ready!" Torbjörn cried out, and she looked around to see everyone was under cover. She hated this. Having everyone at the same place was such a _horrible idea _that her skin was crawling. "Run FASTER, you big dope!"

He sounded terrified, and Ana could not blame him. She looked around the umpteenth time to make sure the barriers were around them. The corner was protected by a pillar, too, which was taking most of the damage from the Omnics weapons.

"Brace for impact! Cover your ears!" She yelled on the comms when she saw the Crusader charging. He approached them at high speed carrying Torbjörn on his arms, the light on his visor flickering— oh boy, Torbjörn had said the armour had one charge on it, at most. She could only hope-

Her train of thought was absolutely shaken by a detonation followed by a huge blast. Not that she really felt it consciously, really. All her senses got overwhelmed the moment the sound wave made her squeeze her head on her hands as if it was going to explode despite the earpieces she was wearing for music and for _exactly this shit _. The shock and heat waves came next, hitting their barriers and the pillar full-force. Ana curled into a ball, conscious of being squeezed, of the heat burning her throat, of the bits and pieces biting at her body. Rocks pounded against rocks, metal bent under stress, hissing, cracking— and then, the blast sucked her to her knees, taking her breath with it.

A cloud of dust engulfed her, making her eyes and lungs burn, but she was alive. Terrifying as explosions were, barriers seemed to make life much easier. Ana cracked her eyes open after a while, coughing. She noticed their team moving around her, _squeezing _her as they moved and got up, elbows and knees sticking everywhere. Her ears hurt, though not as badly as they could have, and she could even hear something over the ringing.

"Recount, people," she said on the comms, getting up. In front of her, the Crusader was curled on the floor against the wall, blocking most of the corridor. "Point the medics towards the injured."

"Are we alive?" Torbjörn panted, appearing from between the large armour arms. "Holy shit, I thought we wouldn't make it."

Their barriers were down, the pillar that had sheltered them was charred and half-melted by the heat. It had cracked, it was displaced, and it was absolutely at the brink of collapsing— but it had held, and had protected them from the worst of the explosion. Which, to be fair, must not have been that big if they had escaped mostly unscathed. Torbjörn had made a great call; she would call it out in the mission report.

Once on her feet, Ana looked around to establish their situation. She could not help but groan. The building was missing half a side, now— well, not missing. It was in a big pile of rubble, just like the Omnic walls and everything in a good radius around it, so she had no hopes for the museum's collections. The Board would not be pleased.

The only good thing was that a lot of that debris was on top of the Omnics, screw them. They were not shooting anymore and, hopefully, their troops could clean up any remaining enemies without problems, now.

"We get down there and secure the area," Sarioglu told to his troops, "and then, we go home."

There was a loud cheer, coming even from Overwatch's troops, and Ana snorted softly. Yeah, she could do with a long shower. And Fareeha. She snorted softly and checked that her rifle was still loaded. Good. She would look over them from there even if they probably had neutralised all resistance already.

While his engineers were figuring out a way of getting them all down to the ground in the safest way possible, Torbjörn stopped by her side, arms crossed.

"I don't like this. Omnics don't self-destruct. They never stop fighting," he said, and Ana could imagine him frowning even without looking at him.

"They played all their cards to surprise us, I guess," Ana shrugged, and felt a myriad of aches and pains now that she allowed herself to relax. "Not the first time they blow up a place with them inside for the casualties."

"Still!" He grumbled. "Could have more _cards _waiting. We'll get down there with the barriers, too. Just in case."

"Sure," she nodded. After all, they had only lasted this long against the Omnics because they had always been extremely careful.

Ana turned at the sound of metal smashing rocks, rifle ready- but it was only Reinhardt kicking debris away as he walked, a true elephant in a china shop. He was carrying his hammer with both hands while his helmet balanced precariously in the hammer's counterweight.

"Wait, look at that. There's still power for the gauntlets to work!" Torbjörn said, hands on hips. "Hah, even I impress myself sometimes…"

"Are we ready to leave?" Reinhardt rested the weapon on the ground with a loud clunking noise and smiled warily.

"Nope, not yet," the engineer waved a hand. "We're going downstairs to check everything's in order. And to see if we can find why the bloody things were entrenched here."

"You need me?"

"Well. We can move the barriers without you, but the team would feel safer if you're around. You know how they are…" He crossed his arms and cleared his throat, obviously not talking for himself.

"Of course, my friend," the German nodded and picked the hammer once again. "Let's go."

"Actually," Torbjörn waved a hand, "stay here for a moment while we build a ramp down, eh? The fewer distractions, the harder we'll work," he said and left them for the engineering team, which seemed to be discussing the best plan of action.

Reinhardt let the weapon on the ground with an exasperated growl and Ana half-smiled in sympathy.

"You look tired. Perhaps you can leave the hammer here with me? Doubt you'd be needing it."

"Ah, that's kind of you, but I rather haul it while I can. That said," he raised an armoured hand to rub the back of his head, "I can't wait to get back to HQ..."

"I know what you mean," she said, rolling her shoulders to relieve her aching back. "I cannot wait for the war to be over, either."

The German chuckled in a very particular way, a cross between a snort and a giggle. He was grinning like the big idiot he was, and Ana could not imagine for the life of her what had lifted his mood so dramatically.

She looked away when she saw something moving out of the corner of her eye, but she could not spot it now.

"Do you see anything out of ordinary ahead of us?" She asked, eyes scanning the other side of the building, where their soldiers were going to head the moment they could get to the ground floor safely.

"Nothing. But I only see half of what you do. _At best _."

"Point taken. Now, sit down."

Ana repositioned her rifle on one of the Crusader's shoulders to look upwards through the scope, hoping it would give her the edge she needed to see what was going on.

"Don't even breathe," she instructed him as she scanned the walls closely. There were no turrets there, no Omnics she could see. No animals, either. The wall was just grey and sandy rock blocks held together with mortar, though she could not see that in detail. Her scope was great, more accurate than her eyes, but its range was limited. Plus, it did not allow her to see the bigger picture. And something in her mind was screaming that the bigger picture was, actually, what she had to consider.

Ana made a thin line with her lips and checked the wall again, scanning every inch and noting every singularity. A black spot. A missing chunk. A water stain. Moss.

"Captain?" Reinhardt wheezed, and she would have smacked him in the head.

"You moron..."

A literal quake shook her rifle as he gulped in a big breath, and she sighed, using the time to scan the wall as a whole. No, nothing. She could see nothing out of ordinary. Her hands itched in anxiety, and she bit inside her mouth. Maybe she was being paranoid, but her ears were still ringing softly and she trusted nothing on the battleground.

"Ey, Reinhardt! Care to give us a hand?" Simmons, Torbjörn's second in command waved, and the German cleared his throat.

"Permission to relinquish the tripod position, sir?" He asked in a very serious voice, eye glinting.

Ana snorted and gave the armour a playful slap. It did not matter if he stayed or not, she still could not find what she saw. Damn it.

"Go. Keep close to Torbjörn for communications, ok? And keep them safe."

"Always, Captain," he got up with a grunt and smiled at her before making his way to the Engineering team

Several minutes later, their troops made it down using the ramp the engineers had built using debris and Omnic parts. Now that they were not being shot at, Torbjörn had rerouted the power on several half-destroyed Omnics to a couple of welders and his men were burning through the maze's walls in a straight line.

"How's things there, Sarioglu?" Ana called her Turkish counterpart over their shared frequency. "All clear?"

"Yes. Very quiet," Sarioglu answered, his high morale clear on his tone. "Good so far. We're almost there."

"I think I saw something moving on the wall over you before, but I cannot spot it now."

"There's nothing wrong I can-" he looked up, then suddenly lowered his head. "Oh, my, I didn't see you there."

"Because you weren't looking!" Torbjörn growled, but she could not spot him near Sarioglu even trying. "Oh sorry, were those your nuts? I didn't see them there!"

Reinhardt let go a hearty laugh Ana could hear even without comms, and she sighed.

"All good there, Torbjörn? Cannot see you."

"I'm under a comms tower, trying to brute-force hack it. Emits in Omnic frequency," he said. The words came garbled; he seemed to have something in his mouth. "May tell us if there is anything communicating here, or if something is communicating from the outside."

"Good idea, maybe we can get a clue where the last God program is," she nodded, even if his friend could not see her.

"We're going through the last wall," Sarioglu pitched in as the team moved forward like smudges in the distance. "Leaving a soldier to guard your engineer here, Captain Amari."

"Thanks. Be careful."

The moment she said that, she caught another glimpse of movement— a line running down, getting longer and longer as if someone was painting it with the tiniest pen. Or, maybe it was going up. It was difficult to tell, but it was above one of the arched windows placed just over the destroyed second floor.

Just over their troops.

"Everyone, get away from there ASAP. The wall may collapse if-"

Ana could not finish the sentence. Their soldiers were pushing through the rubble that had fallen over the Omnics when there was a loud crack akin to a lightning bolt.

"Move away! Move!" Sarioglu yelled on the comms, and the soldiers scattered around— just, it was not the wall what was falling down. It was the legendary white dome, Istanbul's landmark. The UN was going to be livid about it.

Ana lost her footing when several tonnes of rock crashed on the maze, bending Omnic walls and breaking everything in their wake. She curled on herself, covering her head and ears with her arms as everything trembled.

If she survived the war, she was moving to a one-storey house by the sea in the equator. A cabana at the beach where it never snowed and the only thing falling from the sky were rain and stars. Yes. Fareeha would have to grow up a bit and Ana would have to save some money, but it was definitely a goal.

The dense dust made her choke, so she raised the neck of her combat suit to cover her mouth as pebbles rebounded here and there over and around her. Her eyes itched and her ears hurt badly; the cabana was always a nice thought. A distraction. A _dream _.

The reality was way, way worse.

"Team, report," she coughed on the comms, getting on her knees. For what she could see, half the maze was now under a pile of broken rocks, chunks of windows, and the bricks that used to be part of the ceiling.

Shit. _Shit _. Ana changed the comm's frequency and called Command.

"Jack, send the airships now. We need evac and medical attention- not sure how much or for how many. Just be ready."

"Copy Ana, incoming," Jack's voice rasped, concerned. "Be safe, please."

She could not find in herself to answer that. There was a magnificent hole on top of the building that comprised the dome and part of the southern roof, but the rest seemed steady, for now. The dust was clearing, and she could make some silhouettes now.

There were some survivors, at least. She swallowed hard, and her mouth tasted of dust and ashes, sand and blood.

It was her fault. She should have seen the fracture line. She should have thought that the explosion could have weakened the building's structure. She should have called it a day.

"Sarioglu and team reporting," his musical accent took over the line, and she had never been happier to hear him. "We have some soldiers with minor injuries and are forming a perimeter around the area. There's no sign of Omnics, though."

Ana squinted and found him making gestures to a bunch of soldiers. Most of them were going for the closer exit already, but she could see the unmistakable marks of their medics and engineers on the field.

"Good, I leave that with you," she said, her right hand clawing at the nearby pillar. "Team, keep reporting. Evacuate the injured. And someone that knows about buildings, _please _assess the structure and report ASAP if there's a risk of more collapses."

Ana could spot several people getting up, gathering together near a pillar and looking around, but she could not see a glint of silver in the dust nor a big, bulky silhouette. But there was a lot of rubble, so much rubble-

"Teams 00 and 01 reporting, sir. We are unharmed and helping others evacuate."

"Cadet Lukic of Team 02 reporting. Sgt Lee is unaccounted for. Same for half of the team."

That was probably three-quarters of their whole team accounted for, now, bless the little miracles.

"Simmons from Engineering, here. We're trying to find our way to the comms tower where the Chief was. He's unaccounted for. Lt. Wilhelm, too."

The words plunged a knife through her chest. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathless, but the world kept on moving even if it could well have frozen over for her.

"Medical reporting, one of us is unconscious. We're helping across the board but we need supplies and evac ASAP, sir."

"Already called Command," Ana almost did not find her voice and had to clear her throat. It did not help much. "Do as much as you can in the meanwhile."

She grabbed her rifle, which was still on the ground after the collapse, and lumbered towards the ramp to the ground floor. She climbed rubble mounds in autopilot and slid them down effortlessly. As if they were not there.

Just like Sam was after Samalut. Missing. AWOL. Lost to her, even if he was right there. Lost to Fareeha, who never had a father. Lost to the world and even to himself.

Just like-

A hand on her shoulder made her gasp and reconsider her surroundings; she had made it past the center of the building and had not even noticed. Ana turned around, shaking his hand off in the process, just to face Sarioglu. Dust clung to his dark skin, to his hair. Everywhere- something told her she was not any better.

"Captain Amari, are you ok?" He asked, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

No, she wanted to say. The icy hand squeezing her lungs was not ok. The raw ache in her chest was not ok. Her friends —_ her family— _were far worse than not ok. She nodded, instead. It was easy than trying to talk. Than having to explain that the war was almost over _and this should not be happening to any of them _. Let alone under her command.

"How's- How's evacuation doing?" She managed to say, putting up her best cold mask.

"Most people, injured or not, are outside. Also, we found most of the missing members of team 02, although news is not exactly positive," he made a face. "A handful of soldiers that offered to stay are standing guard or looking for survivors. I think you should get outside and let me-"

"No," she snapped, burning down the sympathy in his eyes with a glare. She would _not _leave without her team. "Get outside. Form a perimeter. Keep us safe. The aircraft will arrive any moment, now."

He seemed ready to say something else, but only nodded in the end and then he left her with her thoughts. Now the dust had settled, it was easy to recognize the soldiers, engineers and medics kneeling on the ground or helping people out.

When they lifted the second body, Ana looked down. She wanted to help, but her limbs were paralyzed. It was not because she was queasy— that was impossible, after what she had seen during her soldier life- but because she could not bear to remember Reinhardt without his stupid smile.

The idiot. She hated him. Hated his devotion, his selflessness. How terrible he was at taking care of himself— not purposely, she had learned. He was just eager to please and help and, sometimes, just because he was so absurdly resilient than he did not notice how serious his injuries were.

She hated it, and loved his dedication at the same time. His courage, his loyalty. The way the air rumbled in his chest when he laughed, and how his beard tickled when he hugged her.

_The_ _goddamn idiot_, she thought, biting at her lower lip. She should go there. Help. Do something, be in charge. They would never let her to rot, if roles were reversed, but—

"Found the Lieutenant!" She heard Simmons faintly in the distance, and her heart skipped a beat. "He's alive! Shit! The Chief's here, too! Someone help me, quick!"

She skidded down the mound, her legs moving on their own mind, her rifle jumping at her back as she ran towards the engineer, and the scenario playing in front of her made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. That- That was exactly why she did not want to see it.

Reinhardt was pinned under what looked like a ton of rubble, face red and twisted in a grimace. More than half of his armour was not visible, but he seemed to be in all fours, holding himself precariously on his right arm and left elbow. The frontal panel of the armour was scrunched against the ground, giving off sparks every now and then. Blood scurried down his face and also dripped sluggishly from the plating at his waist, but there was too much already under him to be only his.

Ana knelt by his side, her mind racing to come up with a plan to help, and she spotted a hand between the rocks and the narrow space under the armour; Torbjörn's.

Oh, good Lord.

They could not take him out, there was just not enough space. Reinhardt's trembling arms were giving out inch by inch, the armour's plate bending against the ground despite its thickness. It was a matter of time it would bend enough for his bones to snap with it. The engineers were already taking chunks of debris from his back, but it was not enough. They had to be much faster if they wanted to— But, that was it!

She fumbled in her pockets until she found a little white box, all while blessing Gabriel for giving it to her. She took one of the two little syringes inside, shook it a couple of times, and plunged it on the side of Reinhardt's neck.

"The nanoboost would kick any moment now," she said while cupping his cheek to force him to focus on her. "You must push back. Get on your knees, you understand? We cannot take Torbjörn out if you don't."

He grunted on his throat, almost hiding his face on her hand, and it honestly seemed to be the only sound he could make. She could only imagine the strain he was under, and cursed the drug for taking so long.

"You can do it," she said, voice unwavering despite the knot on her guts. It might not be of much use, but she prepared herself to push the rubble with her gloved hands. "I'll help."

A moment later, Reinhardt gasped and almost fell flat to his face, as if taking that breath had shuffled the weight over him. He held in the last instance, eyes squeezed and shoulders shaking.

The veins on his neck bulged out and, with a long, heartfelt grunt, he pushed up. The rubble moved an inch, then two. Debris skidded backward and to the sides.

Ana dug the heel of her boots on the ground and pushed with her back, her legs- with everything. The engineers piled by her side and joined efforts with her, but it was taking forever to move the debris. _Forever _. She gritted her teeth. The nanoboost would not last enough, and his heart would not cope with another shot.

"Goodness' sake, Reinhardt, push harder!"

The Crusader grunted among teeth and the debris mound on top of him trembled. A large chunk of concrete and rock slid down like a small tectonic plaque, dragging with it a bunch more of rubble and metal pieces. A moment later, he rose from his elbow into his two arms with one mighty push.

Nanites or not, his strength was not for the faint of heart— he would boast about this for ages if he made it.

And he would. _He must _.

"Still cannot get the Chief out, there's more rubble on top of him," one of the medics said after a moment. "We need to free the Lieutenant first."

Ana could not agree more, but the tone of the Reinhardt's grunting had moved from `this is taking a lot of effort` to `this hurts like stupid` and he was still lopsided to the left. Damn. Maybe he was—

Her train of thought was interrupted when he got on his knees with a roar that would put a lion to shame, sending debris flying all over. Ana covered her head with her arms and flinched on instinct at the noise of rocks and metal crashing together. His sudden cry of pain made her dread the outcome of the explosion, but the Crusader had actually fallen on his side over a bunch of debris and was trying to breathe, grimace, and hold himself together while doing none well.

"Well done," Ana said, her body growing weak with relief— relief that did not last much when she looked at Torbjörn. His left arm was trapped under a big boulder, and there was _blood _. Too much of it. He seemed unconscious, which meant the gash on his head that was bleeding all over his face was worse than it seemed. If he was not worse was because Reinhardt's hammer was bent in a way that helped create an air pocket around him.

"Oh shit, not good," Simmons said loud enough that Ana could hear, and then broke into a run towards the Crusader. He had actually gotten up to his feet, as impossible as it seemed. "Lieutenant, don't move!"

The rest of the medics and engineers split into teams and rushed to action after him, and Ana patched in comms to the incoming ships.

"Captain Amari speaking," she said, watching the engineers helping Reinhardt to the ground again. "We need we need medical evac for the Chief Engineer and Lt. Wilhelm along with at least ten of our soldiers."

"Copy, sir. We will provide for them. ETA is six minutes. We've received landing clearance already."

"Roger. Thanks-"

"Louis, we need you here, now!" One of the medics called, and the man seemed torn for a moment before leaving Reinhardt and turning around. He had been exchanging words with the Crusader she could not hear, but it was obvious the medic would not be able to help unless the engineers got him out of his armour.

"What's the problem?" Ana asked, crouching by the engineers. "Cannot get him out?"

"We've more pressing issues," Simmons pointed to the front of the armour, and it was only then that Ana spotted the bubbling dark foam forming underneath the bent and sparking armour chest panel. "The battery will blow up if we don't stop the degradation, but the plate is too bent to remove the unit. Ralph's trying to open the frontal panel now so we can unhinge it and freeze the battery until we can dispose of it at HQ," he scratched the back of his head with a dirty hand, "or maybe, we'll just let it blow up far from us, whatever floats our boat."

"Sorry," Reinhardt managed to wince and make a sheepish face at the same time. Sweat pearled his face, smudging the dirt and grime that cling to him from the collapse. "Couldn't help it- but you saw it? Wasn't it amazing?"

"Sure, just- What about the backup battery?" Ana's voice lost strength when she turned around to check on his back. There was an imprint of something large, long and heavy crossing diagonally the engine and several of the plates on Reinhardt's left side. Whatever hit him had bent some plates and torn others into sharp edges that disappeared inwards.

"There's no abnormal readings coming from it. Seems to be absolutely depleted," Simmons waved a screwdriver. "We'll freeze it nevertheless when we deal with this one, though."

"_ Freeze _it?"

"We throw a pack a pair of cryofreeze aerosol canisters whenever he jumps in an aircraft for days like this. Never told you that?"

"No, good to know," she said, feeling her body draining of adrenaline and leaving her tired. So tired. "Take the panel off; we'll freeze it _if _ we can."

"The first lock opened fine, but the second is stuck," Ralph hammered the butt of the screwdriver he had placed on the chest plate upper lock. "But, I'm getting it open right now."

Ana tried not to think how close to the unstable battery he was hammering. She sat on the rubble, hearing the doctors talk about a tourniquet, and tried to find anything that would distract her mind. Eventually, she noticed how each hammer blow made the Crusader's eyes wrinkle.

She expected his joints and muscles to be sore from the strain of holding that much weight, and his back… After looking at the armour, it sure was going to be a mess. Adrenaline was still helping, she supposed, because he was taking the whole thing fairly well. The nanoboost may still not be where they wanted it to be, but it did force the body to generate a lot of it. Yet, neither adrenaline or his endurance were infinite.

"Lieutenant, report," she said when he downright winced, hoping to both distract him and her thoughts. "What happened to you both?"

"Couldn't get Torbjörn out in time, had to improvise," he made a face. Ana could see the freckles on his cheeks despite the grime, his wolfish teeth as the pain made him breathe through his mouth. Both his arms were on his lap and, even if the armour's gauntlets did not work, he seemed to be squeezing his left arm against himself. "How's he?"

"He's-" she looked over her shoulder. The medics were in the way, so she could not see him, but the blood on the ground glared at her. "He's bad. Medics are with him, now."

Reinhardt's face grew sombre, disappointment and failure weighing more than his dead armour, but there was no point in hiding him the truth.

"Ingrid will give birth any day, now."

"Evac is on the way," she said. "He has a chance. You gave him a chance, even if-" Ana trailed off, shutting her mouth close at the sudden ache in her chest. He had scared her to death. It had been so close. _So close _. "Even if slim," she said in the end, ignoring the empty pit of her stomach. "But he's as stubborn as you are. If no more."

Reinhardt cracked a humourless half-smile, but the engineers' last efforts to get the front panel loose made him throw his head back and barely hold a cry on his throat. As they ran away with the panel, he dropped back into his right elbow, grimacing like Ana had not seen him do since he shattered his leg.

"_ Ow _, shit," he swallowed once the engine found the ground, blood scurrying anew from the junctures at the waist. He was pale like a ghost, and Ana could not unsee the jarred edges of the bent plate pointing downward like knives.

Tapping on her wrist datapad, she called on the comms again.

"Team, ETA for evac?"

"We're landing, Captain, less than a minute. Is everything ready, there?"

She turned around. The doctors seemed to be discussing over Torbjörn's prone figure, but they would be as ready as they could get, because they were not staying in the half-destroyed building a minute longer than necessary.

"Yeah. Let's go home."


	12. The Middle Years (1), Aug 2053 (36hlater

Reinhardt had been soaked in nanites. Poked, prodded, stitched, stretched and, in general, put back together by expert hands. The experience had been more similar to a nightmare than he would like to admit, but he was free to go, at last.

Well, _free _was a bit of an exaggeration. He was free to rest in his room or in whatever other place he saw fit, but he must return back to Med Bay every number of hours for check ups and more meds. The doctors were not exactly happy to let him go, but Gabriel needed him.

In fact, what the Commander said among lines was that the Board was being obnoxious about the state of the Hagia Sophia and that the only way of shutting them up was to provide them with a report of every single action Ana, Torbjörn, and Reinhardt himself made during operation White Dome.

Which was bad, because writing reports was the absolute worst thing _ever _... only second to being confined in Med Bay, restrained, and/or drugged up to his eyeballs.

Reinhardt let Faith, one of their nurses, manhandle him into a loose-fitting Overwatch hoodie. He could not move enough to put on a t-shirt underneath, but the hoodie's fabric was soft against the gauze and bandages covering his back.

"Is everything all right, Lieutenant?" She asked once he was dressed and barefoot by the bed. "How's pain?"

"Not bad…" He gave her a tiny smile, but the sight of his military-grade boots erased it from his face straightaway. Yes, pain was manageable- as long as he did not bend or take a deep breath. Or move, in general.

"Ah, don't worry about those. I've got something better," she chuckled, and rummaged inside the metallic locker in the room. Reinhardt could have kissed her when he saw his trusty fluffy slippers.

The nurse left them by his feet, then poked at his wrist datapad while he put them on.

"So, your datapad is programmed to alert you in three and a half hours, which is when your next check-up is due," she said, leaving it at the table and grabbing a sling she had prepared for him. "Come on, don't glare. You really need it."

"That doesn't mean I hate it less," he mumbled, and let her manhandle him into it. Being crippled sucked; breaking his shoulder blade was possible the most annoying injury he had ever suffered and he hated, _hated _, feeling useless.

Yet, he could not complain. The rubble could have broken his spine or cracked his head like a watermelon- occupational hazards, at the end of the day, but... it could also have killed Torbjörn.

"How's the Chief Engineer?" He asked, realizing he had not been lucid enough to inquiry about him until now.

"He's- stable, for now," she pursed her mouth. Then, she looked at him as trying to read through him. "But his injuries are serious. Even with all of our nanotechnology, he might not make it."

Oh, _fuck. _Of course. The doctors were flocking around him. Ana would not stop casting side glances. Shit.

"I'm sorry," Faith reached for his arm. "But you gave him a chance. We'll make the most of it."

"Can I see him?"

Reinhardt wanted to grab him from his shoulders and shake him until he woke up. Dying was not an option, not when the little girl was about to be born. Not with two other kids, and Ingrid. No. It was _not _an option. _Shit _, if the baby girl did not manage to meet her father, he would have to provide for her somehow. It was only right. Actually, he would provide for them all, since it-

"You know, it's better if you don't," she added quickly, interrupting his train of thought. "You need to focus on yourself. The drugs you're in are _experimental _for a reason."

As if that mattered, now.

"Lieutenant, I'm serious. With your records, I'm half expecting-"

"Ah, don't worry," he moved the strap that bound the sling over his chest, and winced when the motion pulled at the strap around his back; it crossed a lot of bruises and was uncomfortably close to the stitches. "Need something more than a bunch of pills to take me down. I'll be fine."

"You always say that and you always end worse than a rug," she put her hands on her hips. "Come straight away if you feel bad, all right? If you take care of yourself, I'll get you to the Chief Engineer when you come for your check-up."

Reinhardt's eyebrows twitched as he considered finding Torbjörn on his own; the last time he tried sneaking around in Med Bay he got his arse slept by an army of doctors and nurses chasing him down the corridors.

He rubbed his bound elbow, pursing his mouth; this time he doubted he would even cross the door before Faith used all her bad arts on him.

Bummer.

"I'll see you in a while," he rolled his eyes.

Using the wall as a crutch, Reinhardt wobbled through the corridors and got outside Med Bay. Walking hurt like stupid, but the bandages around his torso kept the damaged muscles from straining and the fracture reasonably stable. They also made him feel like a wooden doll, absolutely stiff.

On the bright side, moving kept him from thinking about Torbjörn.

"Computer, where's Captain Amari?" He asked to nobody in particular when he reached the elevator. The speakers on the wall answered in a metallic voice:

"In her office, Lieutenant."

Good. He would not have to walk much more to get to her, then.

Gabriel had been a bit cryptic during his visit. He had not only told him that they had to appease the UN Board somehow; he also said Ana was still shaken about the mission. When Reinhardt pressed for details, the Commander just shrugged.

"It's just a warning," he had said, leaving him in the dark. _As usual _.

"Send the Board to hell then," Reinhardt had frowned. "Let her catch a break."

"I wish I could," he had shrugged. "We will also have a meeting later today. Teleconference. But they want the report before we meet, if possible."

The memory made Reinhardt snort. Ridiculous. The Board had been ridiculous since the very day they started winning the war.

"Reinhardt," someone called, and he turned to see his good friend and dealer Mark Knapps, waiting for him just as he had promised. "Sunglasses? Shit, what are you now, a fashion model?"

He rolled his head in a way it would have made Gabriel turn green with envy and, for a moment, he missed his long golden mane; the effect was just not the same with the short hair. Nor with an upset stomach.

Bright lights made his vision swim even wearing sunglasses as he was, courtesy of the new painkillers- but, at least, they did not make him high or feel like the worst shit in the universe, which was a mercy.

If they also kept the bloody pain at bay, they would be absolutely brilliant.

_Cannot have it all, can we, now? _

"It's time someone recognized my talent," he half-smiled nevertheless, but the words sounded tired and slow even to his ears. "How have you been? Beers are more than overdue, my friend."

They bumped fists, and the telecommunications engineer leaned on the wall by his side.

"True, you're always deployed in the back of beyond," the other man chuckled. "I'm good, though. Work and more work. Nothing new under the sun, just like for you," he waved at his sling. "Anyway, being the busy guy you are, sure we better get this done and catch up later? I've a good deal in my haaaaaands..."

Mark opened up a bag he was carrying with him; there was a package of medium-sized cookies and, at least, ten ounces of chocolate. In any other circumstances, Reinhardt would start salivating right there, but the bloody motion sickness really took his appetite away. It did not matter, though, since the treats were not for him; he had called Mark just after talking to Gabriel.

"Can I afford it, though?"

"Oh, please," he waved a hand. "Special price, just for you. Two-hundred and fifty."

_Holy shit _.

"Fine…" Reinhardt sighed, begrudgingly. At least, Mark always had quality stuff, and it paid. "You know my account."

"That, I do," the other man clapped his good arm and handled him the bag. "Always a pleasure doing business with you. Let's catch up, ok? When you're feeling better."

"Sure, my friend. Thanks for this," he raised the bag a bit, "and for lightening my wallet."

"Anytime," he laughed, the bastard, and Reinhardt lumbered his way towards the end of the corridor, where Ana's office was.

He banged on the door and waited. It was not exactly his style to let doors stop him, but Ana had threatened with hanging him from his thumbs if he ever stormed into her office again, and his back hurt bad enough already. Only when he heard a faint '_ come in' _he opened up.

Ana was bent over a datapad while checking images in an holoscreen, hair braided and wearing civilian clothes, and Fareeha was sprawled on the floor with her white headphones on. The sight of them always managed to bring a smile out of him, even on shit times like this.

"Oh, Reinhardt!" The girl squeaked the moment he dodged the doorframe. She got up with a jump like the little monkey she was and stopped by his side just before throwing herself at him. Her large chocolate eyes were glued to the sling, yet she asked: "Why are you wearing sunglasses? There's no sun here, dummy."

"Because they look _cool _," he made an effort to grin this time, although he still missed his long mane greatly. "Won't you think so?"

"Maybe if you weren't hurt _again _. What did you do now?"

Reinhardt had to cough to cover the smile her disappointment and the frown on her face brought. He could not deal with Fareeha when she acted like Ana, because she was absolutely adorable. And hilarious.

"Ah, you should have seen it. It was _amazing _."

"What was? What did you do?"

"I deadlifted half a building!" He lifted the kid by the midsection and squeezed her against his hip. Bad idea. _Bad idea. _He dropped her immediately, and flexed his good arm instead. _Carefully. _"Half a building! Can you believe it?"

"No! Of course I can't!" Fareeha snorted, hands on hips. "Buildings are too big, even for you!"

"Pah! You can ask you mom, she was there. Right, Ana? Tell her how I-"

"How you broke your shoulder and got thirty-five stitches on your back, plus the ones over your thick skull? Yeah, I can tell her that," Ana snapped, burning a hole through him with her glare.

Reinhardt half-winced at the seemingly uncaring tone. Gabriel's words made him expect Ana to be feeling bad about the building, the soldiers, and Torbjörn, but it clearly was worse than that. Thank goodness he brought chocolate and cookies.

"You didn't run from the doctors again, did you?" She continued after a moment of silence. "Because-"

"No, I am on parole, for now," he raised his hand asking for peace. "Gabriel said-"

Ana groaned even before he could even finish the sentence and leaned her forehead on her hands.

"- that we need to write a report to make the Board happy before the meeting."

"Yes, but I should be writing, and you should be resting," she sighed. "The report is half finished, anyway."

"Great. We'll have more time for this, then."

Reinhardt walked towards Ana's desk and deposited the sweet loot just in front of her datapad. Then, he waited, chest puffed and hand on hip.

"Ahh you're the best!" Fareeha squeed, perching on a chair and squeezing his good arm before practically stretching over the desk to grab a cookie.

"Yeah, this must have cost you a fortune. You pamper us too much."

For a moment, Reinhardt could only stare at Ana like a fish out of water.

"That's- nonsense," he managed to say, smiling to hide that her words had been a sucker punch to his gut. Shit, it had been years since the last time she had been this hostile to him. "I don't give you anything I won't give Torbjörn and his family."

And it was true. If Ana would ever -_ no, don't even consider that! _\- he would never leave Fareeha to the social services. Nor would the super-soldiers, most probably, but that was not the point.

There was a thick silence after his words were Ana was eyeing the chocolate with an indescribable look on her face. Her body language, though, was closed. Tense. Ready to jump and run away from her desk at a moment's notice.

Maybe it was nothing personal? They were in good terms the last he remembered, before the medics practically knocked him unconscious once inside their ship. Maybe she was just on edge. Hurting. Sure she had not been able to see her counsellor if Gabriel had kidnapped her to write a bloody report.

Maybe she just needed someone to talk to.

"Is everything all right? Can I help? I'm happy to listen."

"No- _no _, it's ok," Ana leaned back in her chair -and thus, further away from Reinhardt. Then, she grabbed a slab of chocolate and showed it to him. "You win, though you shouldn't have brought anything. Now, let's get to work, please."

Her reticence to let him into her comfort zone was disheartening but, at least, she was not sending him out. _Yet _.

"Sure, let's do something productive..."

Reinhardt pulled at one of the chairs by her desk and groaned at the stabbing pain that rippled through his back.

"You may be more comfortable on the sofa," Ana said in a low voice, and he grumbled under his breath. Shit, it was a fucking chair, not at an elephant. If batting his eyelashes the wrong way was going to hurt like this, he surely was not looking forward to the rest of the afternoon.

"What's the deal with the glasses, though?"

The question came as Reinhardt lowered himself on the cushions. It took him a while to answer, gritting his teeth as he was while awkwardly trying not to move an inch more than necessary.

"Bright light makes me see funny," he said once settled down. "Painkillers."

"Oh," Ana looked at him out of the corner of her eye, tapping at the desk with her short nails. "They don't seem to be affecting you much. Or, in any way, if your wincing is of any indication."

"They're an experimental branch we're creating with the doctors at the Dove. It's better for some things. Not so much for others."

There was a moment of silence -time Reinhardt used to squirm on the sofa to find a way he could lean on the cushions without actually leaning on them- before Ana spoke again.

"Fareeha, go get your homework done. Hey, I'm talking to you, young lady."

The girl made a frowny face and put down her earphones. Then, she picked up the datapad, walked towards Reinhard and sit on the armrest of the sofa, all very silent and solemn.

"I have to make up a story for school," Fareeha said at last, putting the datapad on his lap and looking at him with big chocolate eyes. "But mom sucks at stories, and I need help."

Oh.

That was not what Reinhardt was expecting from his trip to Ana's office, but a small smile pulled at his lips nevertheless. It meant the world to him that she liked his stories, it really did.

At the beginning, telling her what he remembered of his unit and the trouble they got into was awkward. Not because of her, little darling she was, but because he failed to put in words a lot of his thoughts. It was hard, and it only got harder when she asked for pictures... but, it got better, with time. And it soon reached a point where he ran out of things to tell.

That was a disaster of immeasurable proportions; he wanted to keep coming back to see her and Ana! Fortunately, Fareeha did not mind hearing the same stories several times, nor she cared if he invented them. That jolted his memory sometimes, so the counsellor encouraged him to keep doing it.

Besides, it was not like he was exaggerating; Balderich could have arm-wrestled a bear, had he wanted to.

"So, what do you want your story to be about?"

"A girl that's awesome!" Fareeha pumped her fists. "She's clever, and fast, and strong. And she's a soldier-"

"Nope, she's not," Ana pitched in, and the girl groaned and glared at her mother.

Uh, oh. It looked like someone had an argument about the _forbidden subject _. That sure had not helped Ana's mood.

"Ah, but she doesn't need to be a soldier to be awesome," Reinhardt said in the end, tapping his fingers on his leg. Disappointment was still written all over her face, so he continued, forcing some cheerfulness onto his voice. "It's true! If you remember the story of-"

"I don't care!" She snorted. "The girl wants to be a soldier!"

"Fareeha…" Ana called her, a warning in her tone.

"It's unfair! Why can't she be what she wants?"

"Because you don't know what you are talking about. End of the discussion," Ana slammed a hand on her desk, her eyes made of the hardest ember. Shit. She looked even angrier than that time Gabriel went around the base saying she had been sending him nudes.

There was a moment of tense, awkward silence. Fareeha's mouth quivered, her eyes filling with tears, and then she started wailing. Fareeha's cries did not soften Ana, though. If only, they just hardened her stance further. She was like a panther ready to jump for the kill, all sharp edges, all tension.

At least one thing was clear, now; Ana did not hate him in particular. She hated the entire world.

"Ah, no need to get upset. Come here—" Reinhardt picked up the kid, if only to drop her immediately on his lap with a grimace. _Stupid, useless painkillers _.

She kept on crying, squeezing her face against his hoodie. Oh, boy. Maybe getting out of Med Bay had not been such a good idea, after all. He was way too tired for this. _Any _of this.

"What about I tell you about my _oma? _" He sighed, rubbing her back. "She was not a soldier, but she was an awesome lady. I think you may like her."

"Your what?" The girl hiccupped and shifted, her small fingers clawing the hoodie. Her face was covered in tears and snot, and he wiped it clean with his hand the best he could.

"My grandma. She worked at a forge, _ja _, making tools and ah, _stuff _. She baked the best cakes you could dream of, covered in _layers _of chocolate. She gave the best hugs, too."

Reinhardt remembered his _oma _fondly- she was the best thing about his summers in Bavaria, before boarding school- but that alone was not going to convince the little pumpkin.

Time to pull out the big guns.

"It's been ages since I told this to anyone, but I know you'll keep my secret," he poked her belly with a finger, making her squirm. "But no more crying, _ja _?"

Fareeha pouted and rubbed her face with both hands, sending a sad, upset look at her mother. Then, she nodded at him, still sniffling.

"Good. When I was around your age, I fell into a well. I broke my leg-"

"Already?" Ana interrupted him, not even looking up from her datapad. "You sure attract trouble."

"It was an _accident _," he rolled his eyes. "But I won't expect your highness to know what that is."

His comeback made her look at him, if just for a moment. Good. Upset or not, the sooner Ana realized she was being an absolute pain in the arse, the better.

"Anyway," he cleared his throat, "soon I realized the water was starting to rise. In few minutes, it reached my waist. It was cold! And it was dark inside the well, and nobody could hear me cry out… I was _scared _."

That did it. Fareeha's eyes grew big, and she dug her small fingers on his forearm. Ah, she was precious.

"When the water was up to here," he touched one of her shoulders, "I heard _Oma' _s voice. She had found me! She slid down the well with her hands and trainers only, _ja! _Down as much distance as this whole office!. Then, she put me in her shoulders, and climb-"

"She carried _you _? That's impossible!"

"But she did! She put me over her shoulders and climbed up with me. She saved my life, Fareeha."

"No way," she murmured, grabbing his good arm and struggling to lift it up. "It just… She must have been way stronger than you!"

"She was way, way stronger," he nodded solemnly.

"Stronger than Balderich?"

"Ah, she would have given him a run for his money, I can assure you that," he chuckled tiredly. "She was also a very kind woman, you know. Always smiling. She managed to have food for everyone that came home-"

"Just like someone I know…" Ana said, taking a bite of a cookie. She was the worst, pretending not to care nor listen, then chirping at every possible opening.

He snorted softly, the ache in his heart easing somewhat.

"What did she look like?" Fareeha curled on her chair. "Was she big like you?"

"Ah, not as much, no. But, let me see, her hair was almost grey… And she wore ornaments in it, a bit like you do," Reinhardt said, poking her little nose. "To be fair, it's been a long time, and I don't remember her looks very well."

The child tapped her little fingers on his arm, seemingly lost in thought, and Reinhardt used the time to wriggle on the cushions, trying to get more comfortable- just, there was no way he could really lean and _not lean _at the same time, and he ached no matter what he did.

"But I still don't know what to do about my story," Fareeha pouted after a moment, thankfully distracting him again.

"What if you made it about a clever and strong young lady that helps people?" He rubbed the elbow of his bad arm absentmindedly. "For example, she might go through dark, narrow tunnels no-one else would venture through to help someone in need."

"Ohhh there may be lava under the tunnels!" She pumped her fists. "She may need to jump super high and be super fast. Or maybe she can _FLY _!"

"_ Ja! _And, in her way, she might find-"

"A puppy in trouble! Yes! A baby crocodile!" Fareeha clapped, excited about the prospect. However, she grew a bit wary a moment later. "But, can she keep it?"

Reinhardt blinked, wondering why in the world would she would want a crocodile, of all pets.

"Will she take good care of it, though? They grow a lot. Need a lot of food."

"She has a big friend that eats a lot," she looked at him with a frown, but then grinned. "He will teach her how to take care of it."

Ana snorted before Reinhardt had time to register that Fareeha was talking about him.

"Now that it's a great story, Fareeha," Ana said, leaning her chin on her hands while he tickled the kid in retaliation. "Why don't you make a list with all these? Reinhardt and I need to do some work, now, but we will check it with you later."

Fareeha made a little pouty face, but did not protest. Reinhardt patted her legs; she was such a well-behaved little darling that he always felt she was missing out on being a kid.

But that was a no-no argument with Ana.

"So, what would you have me do, then?" He asked once the girl left his lap for her place on the floor.

"Nothing, really. But, since you'll protest until you have it your way," she raised an eyebrow, "I've given you access to the file I've been writing. Grab one of the larger datapads, you're going to need it."

Reinhardt checked the report's table of contents and wheezed. It was _infinite _. He jumped back and forth between sections, impressed by the amount of work she had done in such a short period of time, even if he could not read the details. The sentences were blurred, and a large red watermark saying _classified _covered half of each page.

"I'd like you to read the table of contents and tell me if there's anything missing. Then, write whatever you'd like me to include as a comment, and I'll merge everything when you're done."

Well, at least he would not have to read pages and pages. One thing took his attention, though; the summary was not classified for his clearance level:

_Strike team under the command of myself, Captain Ana Amari, was deployed to Istanbul, Turkey, to deal with a remaining pocket of Omnic resistance. __entrenched with heavy artillery inside the Hagia Sophia __. _

_While the team was __fucked up, we fought our way through the entrenched forces holding way superior firepower __able to overcome and neutralize all hostile forces __at great personal cost __, with less than 20% of casualties, the _**_Omnics _**_caused serious damage to the structure of the Hagia Sophia __almost causing a massacre__ . Chief Engineer Lindholm's wits saved both the building and the team from a catastrophic explosion. I recommend a commendation for his actions. __and service __. _

_In an attempt to secure the building and recover additional intel __to end the war ASAP __for the greater good of Overwatch and our mission, the Chief Engineer __endangered his life__ suffered serious injuries. Had it not been for Lt. Wilhelm's __selflessness __timely intervention, it is likely that the Chief Engineer would have been killed. __At the time of this report, his life is stil __Due to conspicuous bravery on the part of Lt. Wilhelm, I am suggesting a commendation for his actions, too. _

Reinhardt looked at Ana out of the corner of his eye, but she was again concentrated on writing, and did not see the small smile on his lips fighting to become a full-fledged grin.

Or that he thought.

"Don't be so proud of yourself," she snorted. Her voice carried a hint of malice and the cadence of tiredness, but not the anger it had before. "The sofa can only take so much of your flexing."

"But you think I'm brave!" He did indeed flex as much the bandages left him, which fortunately was not much. "Enough to ask for a commendation for me!" he wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "I'm touched, really."

She tapped her fingernails on the desk and leaned her head on her other hand to look at him for a brief moment. Then, she went back to the datapad.

"Please," she said after a moment, eyebrows raising so slightly. "I've asked for many commendations for you in the past."

"Have you, now?"

"Yes. To the _biggest idiot _on the team. But somehow the Board never listens to me."

He snorted and rolled his eyes, but ended up grinning at her. Now, that was more the Ana he knew and loved. Not that he did not love the grumpy, feral one, but he rather have her playfully roast him than shred him to pieces. She was munching some chocolate, the evilness, and he was glad, really glad to be of service.

Bloody hell. She had really worried him, for a while.

"Don't you want a cookie?"

"I'm not really hungry, thanks." His words made her raise her gaze from the datapad instantly, and her mind-reading gaze pierced him. "It's fine. Painkillers."

"But you need to eat, for the nanites."

"I know. I'll try in a while. Do you want me to start somewhere specifically?" Reinhardt changed topics, if only because he was positive he was not going to eat later either. She did not need to know that, though.

"It'll help if you can write anything you remember about the cannon. Anything you did, whatever you remember Torbjörn doing. Anything that can help explain why the building collapsed."

Her voice wavered slightly at the end of the sentence, but her face was as unreadable as usual. Actually, that was not true.

"You don't… It was not your fault, Ana. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah," she let go a soundless sigh. "Get to work, please."

—

Three hours and a failed lunch later, the alarm on Reinhardt's wrist datapad went off.

He had been going through every single item in the table of contents, trying to remember what happened, what he was doing, and why he was doing it- but, to his shame, he had not been able to write a lot.

The drugs may not impair his thinking much, but tiredness, pain, and sheer _boredom _did. Reports were the absolute worst on a good day with his earbuds on. Earbuds he had forgotten to bring, of course. And typing- shit. Typing with one hand was just the worst. It was freaking 2053, they sure could invent something some sort of thought recognition for people working in teams, or something.

"It's Med Bay's reminder for the check-up," he sighed, stopping the alarm.

"You know what to do, then."

_Ja _, but he was not looking forward to getting back to Med Bay. Or to move, for that matter. If the way he had been aching for the past hour was of any clue, getting there was going to be hell.

Slowly, he pushed himself up from the sofa. He did not even remember holding his breath or grinding his teeth, because his nerves catching fire was the only thing in his mind. _Stiff _did not hold enough meaning for how he felt. He was a goddamn carving on stone. One that would not bend without breaking.

"You ok there?"

"Just need a moment," he wheezed, straightening the last inches.

Just, that moment was more like an eternity.

He stumbled towards the doorway, where he leaned to catch his breath. Pain was not that bad as long as he stood still, but _shit _. His knees were like old, mushy, _throbbing _jelly, and the rest of him was not feeling much better.

The new painkillers were not as strong, that was a given, but he was feeling like shit warmed up.

"Go back to your room when you're done and rest. Hear me? Forget about the report and the meeting."

"It's fine. I'll manage," he forced himself to smile to reassure her, but she was already on her feet and walking towards him. "Really. Besides, there's more I want to add to the report, and-"

"No. You are in no shape to be out of bed," she frowned, resting a hand on the small of his back, where it should not ache but did nonetheless.

"But-"

The hand on his back formed a claw such that he could feel her nails through the fleece. Reinhardt saw her lower her head, her lovely dark hair obscuring her face. She looked so small all of sudden, so fragile, that he would have squeezed her against his side if her mood was not so volatile.

"Ana?"

"You promised to take care of yourself."

She dropped the words like a bomb and looked back at him while crossing her arms tightly. Her proverbial armour was back as quickly as she had lost it, and she was arching the Eyebrow of Disapproval.

Of course, she was right. Not to say bed sure sounded like a place where he could collapse right now. _Slowly_. But they needed to deal with the mission fallout as a team and it nagged him to no end to be unable to fulfil his duties.

Surely he could write from bed. With some music, to keep things interesting? _Ja _, that may work. Actually, he could use dictation if he was going to be alone- but the way Ana was glaring told him it was not an idea she wanted to hear about.

"Would you call if you need me?"

She rolled her eyes and pushed him out without strength.

"Go already before I actually walk you there like the _poor _cripple you are…"

—-

Limping all the way back to the basement had been a feat of endurance. The corridors felt infinite as he wobbled, holding himself on the wall, and he would have stopped halfway through if getting to move again had not hurt way worse.

He could use a big sofa. And a bunch of cushions. A blanket. And someone that cared minimally about him to curl with. Extra points if they would pet his hair.

Maybe he should make some calls.

He was lumbering out of the elevator when he crashed into someone. Any other time he would have not even noticed it until the inevitable growls and cries of pain, but today- today, he sucked a breath among teeth when his muscles tensed to keep his balance.

"Aw, shit, sorry. Are you-? Oh, hey, man," Simmons greeted from behind several rolls of millimetric paper that almost hid his face completely. "I was actually looking for you. I thought it would be easier for me to come see you, than for you to come to the Bay."

"You're not wrong," Reinhardt let go his breath. The engineer was not exactly who he had in mind, no. And it was not that he hated the guy, not at all, but he was _so verbose _. "But it's not a good time now."

"Sure, sure. But I really need your input on something, won't take us long."

Reinhardt glared at him, but the sunglasses probably hide it because Simmons was already trodding along. Goddamnit. Torbjörn was also like a dog with a bone when he hyper-focused on getting something fixed. Maybe it was an engineer thing, that. Or maybe being obnoxiously mental was a requisite for being an engineer.

However, Simmons was there to talk about his armour, which was practically the second thing he cared about the most in the world.

Damn it.

"Let's stop at this room then," he said, limping badly the few feet up separating them from the doorway of a small meeting room.

Simmons left the rolls of paper he had been carrying over the only table in the room, then turned around with a digi-pen his hand.

"I dig the sunglasses, you know," he said. "They suit you. We could probably tint the visor on your helmet-that'd be cool! Oh, but then it wouldn't glow, pah."

"Get to the point," Reinhardt grunted while walking towards one of the walls, where he leaned. "You've five minutes."

"Ok, good! We need to replace many circuits across the armour, which would take us around a week's work, tests and all, provided we have all the components in stock," Simmons talked quickly, almost without breathing, and tapped the pen on the table. "We can fix in parallel the plating that's not coming from J08's factories directly, but the new power supplies would take around three weeks minimum to be shipped. Three weeks."

"Holy shit, that's a long time," Reinhardt frowned. "The cannon made a mess-"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Simmons pointed at Reinhardt's fluffy slippers with his mouth wide open. "What the fuck are those?"

Wait. That rung a bell— oh.

"Shit," he said, holding his bad arm against himself while chuckling. "I thought I was the only one who remembered that..."

"My good man, I'm the keeper of the useless and otherwise lost Internet knowledge," the engineer put his hands on his hips and grinned like a maniac. "I've backup of things you would not believe! Just look."

He tapped at his wrist datapad, and connected it to the screen on the wall. The very same designs he had in paper showed up, ready to receive any changes he made via the digi-pen, but he quickly discarded that to show him a directory of vines.

Oh, boy. This was something Reinhardt would have never imagined about Torbjörn's second-in-command despite having talked to the guy many times over the years.

The videos were as funny and old as Reinhardt remembered them to be. Some were just US-based, but many crossed the world while the Internet was still active. It was amazing, like looking through a window to a forgotten past.

"Ah, I've a ton more," Simmons said after a bunch of reproductions. "Wanna watch more any other time, or have I bored you forever already?"

"Some other time. With beer."

"That's a promise. But, in all honesty, what the hell? Fluffy slippers? You? Hero takes a fall, man."

"Are you suggesting there's something wrong with them?" Reinhardt snorted, the threat on his tone diluting as he changed the weight from one leg to the other. _Oww _, he truly needed to get going to Med Bay, or he would collapse in a corner even before getting there.

"No, not at all, of course," Simmons flipped the pen on his fingers, then tapped the desk with the pen's butt. "But let's go back to business, I've a shit-ton things to do. I'm thinking about improving the armour's schematics as a whole, since we'll have a delay in any case. Protecting the circuits better from external factors such as extreme heat and plasma pulses comes to mind."

"That would be helpful, ja."

"Also, what about we try to protect you better, too?" He flipped the pen again. "See, there's nothing between the plating and you here and here. You could easily get burned if exposed to enough heat."

"I can't see shit from here," he growled under his breath, then wobbled towards the table. "There's only plating there because— ah, of the armour's tight-fit. If you add padding just like there's at the front panel, you'll need to make the piece twice as bulky to keep the air flow."

"Well, maybe, if we use BioCool. But, what if we use Aerogel, for example? It's lightweight, and a thin layer goes a long way. If we placed it between the components, like, ah, here..."

Simmons fumbled with the papers until he found the one that exposed the circuits of the armour. With the pen, he drew several lines over several components, and across an area that was mostly plating.

"It's also extremely fragile. We tried to use it-"

"It's been ages since that, man. Let me research on it, that's all I ask of you."

Reinhardt groaned inwardly. It would not work. He knew that for a fact. Torbjörn had also tried to give him more protection with no avail- but Simmons was looking at him with the same huge eyes Fareeha used when she wanted a ride on his shoulders. Well, they had time. Ja, he could do- it was fine to do some drawings. Torbjörn's shadow was long despite his short stature, so if that made Simmons- If that- _Holy fucking shit _. He squeezed the backrest, trying hard not to grimace when pain went up a notch on its own accord.

"You ok there?"

"_ Ja, _ah— do a proof of concept," he lowered his head for a moment, then took a breath as deep as the bandages and his batted muscles allowed. Fuck. The fracture throbbed sharply when he moved- which was sort of expected, but the rest of his back ached in a way he had never experienced before. Inside out, if that made any sense. Not to talk about his knees and hips. Or even his good shoulder.

Taking into account he was used to bouncing off the walls, wrestling, and killing himself at the gym, that was not exactly a good omen.

"It may be best if I get going," the engineer tapped with the pen on the desk. "You've places to be, right?"

Reinhardt did not answer that, dreading walking again.

What was really bad, though, was the nurses making him to sit down on a large stool in one of the examination rooms -stool he would need to get up from, at some point- only to remove most of the bandages that kept him straight.

It was not the first time they did this to him, his mind vaguely supplied while a doctor inspected and poked at the stitches, but he had been mostly comatose and lying flat on his stomach back then; keeping himself from bending and moving without help was _fantastic _when half his body was screaming at him.

"Oh, Angela. Come see. The Lieutenant is always an interesting case," the doctor that was looking after him said, and Reinhardt growled inwardly. He hated being learning material, and it always happened.

It was the raw display of muscles and testosterone, for sure. Or maybe his hair. Or his size. Sometimes, even the scar crossing his eye was subject of much poking and investigation. He hated it during routinely check-ups, and he fucking wanted to kill everyone involved when everything hurt.

"Oh dear, what happened to him?" The newcomer was a young woman, by the sound of her voice, but that did not save her from his inner contempt.

The doctor provided a long-winded explanation that could be resumed in `rubble crashing on top of him`, and then continued with how he was checking the work of the nanites.

"I'll check how your arm is doing," he said, and a device lowered from the ceiling with an electric humming. Its cold surface pressed against Reinhardt's neck first, then moved towards his bad shoulder with exquisitely slow motions. "Good. The shoulder blade is already holding up. Good progress, Lieutenant."

_Ja _, it was fantastic. Just awesome. Reinhardt was a second from clapping and jumping in awe- or would be, if he could breathe. _Bloody hell _, he was seeing stars under his squeezed eyes.

"Hey, he… Pain seems bad." The woman's German accent was thick- if he had to guess, she was Swiss, from the North. She was also quite young, probably in training, and no, Reinhardt was not over-analyzing it; he just needed something to distract his mind from the thumping of blood on his ears before it drowned him. "Doctor?"

Reinhardt ran a hand over his face when the doctor withdrew the device. His left side was on fire from the neck down to the pelvis, while the right side throbbed in sympathy.

The doctor hummed and put another gadget against his neck, this time a handheld one. It beeped twice before reading his vitals, and then he took it away with a little snort.

"Have photophobia and the swimming vision subsided?"

"No," Reinhardt tried to draw breath without much luck. It sucked. It all sucked, and all he wanted was to lay somewhere and curl into an undignified ball of misery.

No, no curling. Just thinking about moving made his back hurt worse.

"Have you eaten anything today?" The doctor asked, then made another humming noise.

"Skipped lunch," he looked to the side. Ana almost had his skin when he only had two bites of stew, but he could not help himself. "Queasy."

"Do you have any other pain? Any unusual feeling? Tingling, numbness?"

The doctor's warm hands felt Reinhardt's midsection, his fingers specifically prodding below the ribs of his right side. He found himself swallowing at the surge of pain radiating from his back.

"Nothing specific, no."

"It is interesting..." The doctor trailed off, and there was a moment of silence only broken by someone aggressively tapping a screen. "The effect of the drugs doesn't seem to have waned just yet, but you are in more pain than I expected."

"Have you ruled out rhabdo?" The young woman asked.

"Nanites should be taking care of that but, since working with the Lieutenant is a lottery, I've asked for blood tests," the doctor sighed, and his fingertips touched the base of Reinhardt's neck- just, no. It was not him. These fingers were small and careful like little butterfly legs.

"A lottery?"

"Yeah, he has like three pages full of drug contraindications in his medical history."

_Ja _, hilarious.

"Oh, wait. _Oh, dear _," the girl gasped, then positioned herself in front of Reinhardt. Her blonde hair had been hastily tied in an up-do, and her clothes were far too big for her small frame. She was pretty, even more blushing like a strawberry as she was. "I, ah, didn't recognize you, Herr Wilhelm."

Oh, a fan. A lovely, German-speaker, _teenager _fan. That still did not absolve her from using him as learning material.

The doctor walked in front of his line of vision as well and took his sunglasses off for a moment to check his eyes. The flash light sent daggers through Reinhardt's skull, and he had to squeeze the edge of the bench he was sitting on not to punch the other man to oblivion and beyond.

"So, the stitches don't seem to be infected, the bruising seem- well, it's too early to tell. But it looks like nanites are keeping it under control," the doctor enumerated. "All in all, it looks like you are healing well, but we need to wait for the blood tests to come back before we know more. Until then, I'm afraid you should stay here. I'm concerned your liver may be having trouble with the drugs."

As if Reinhardt could run away.

"Can you bind me back already, please?" He squeezed the nape of his neck. Had anyone told him he would miss both the bandages and the sling this much, he would have guffawed in their faces.

"Sure. Angela, can you manage? I'll go see if we can get the blood results faster."

The girl and him exchanged some more words, but Reinhardt was too busy trying to keep himself straight to pay much attention- at least, until a small hand touched his shoulder.

"I'm going to get you sorted out, ok? The nanite soup is a bit cold, though…" The girl said, popping briefly in his field of vision. "It may help the pain."

"Aren't you a bit young for this?"

"Probably," she shrugged, and disappeared at his back. A moment later, she was holding a roll of thick elastic bandages against his pecs. "Grab this end, and keep it here."

She was being careful, yet the bandages pressing against the stitches and the bruising on his left side was unpleasant at best- but, soon pain started to recede as more and more of his muscles were bound again.

"Ah, I never believed Ingrid when she said we would meet like this," she said after a while, stretching yet more bandages over his midsection. The soft snort she ended the sentence with almost sounded like a humourless laugh.

"What did you-?" He frowned, trailed off. "Who are you?"

"I'm Angela. Angela Ziegler," she said, and switched to German. "A friend of Torbjörn's family." She might have felt his distrust, because she continued. "Ah, it's- uhm... Ingrid was a friend of my parents -job related stuff, you see- and I, ah… ended up living with them for a while until I got my internship at the Dove hospital."

That was weird. He sure had not met her when he went to Sweden. Unless…

"Your parents, what was their job, again?"

"They were doctors. Worked in a prestigious hospital here, the Dove, specializing in nanotechnology, but had a research commission in a Swedish hospital," she said, and it clearly was a thorny subject by the way she was looking at the roll on her hand. "They got to travel there a lot, which is how they met the Lindholms. I don't have the details, though. Never… Never really asked, you know."

The way she half-smiled made Reinhardt feel bad. Damn, he thought she was someone's daughter on a school project or something, but- shit. He remembered Torbjörn saying he was friends with some good Swiss doctors when they went to Sweden to get his knee fixed and, at some point, he may have mentioned someone was staying home with-

Wait.

"Did you say you lived with Ingrid until you got an _internship _in the Dove? But you're just a kid. You must be _extremely intelligent _."

She blushed up to the root of her hair and laughed nervously.

"Yeah, I'm kind of gifted."

"Shit, gifted," Reinhardt squeezed the edge of the stool as she tightened the bandages. He could not bend more than a couple of inches again, which was great, even if now he could barely breathe. "Wish we had met in better circumstances, though. And not talking about myself, really."

The girl made a face.

"Well, he's well attended and alive," she said. "And at least I can see him and tell Ingrid how he is."

_Ja _, he should be calling her. He should, really, get Faith to show him where he was. Just like he should be writing a report and helping Ana. And, probably, he should also be keeping an eye on Simmons. Just in case.

A splotch on his back made him gasp and swallow his thoughts in one go.

"Sorry. It is quite cold, isn't it?"

It was. Reinhardt squeezed his eyes at the sensation, but soon relaxed; it was refreshing to have his brain worry about a different kind of pain. The girl went on daubing the bandages on his back, and the room soon filled with the familiar antiseptic and menthol scent of the nanite soup.

"Good- all done. Any better?"

He nodded slowly and took the sunglasses off for a moment to rub his eyes. Enduring the pain was draining the little energy he had. Worst was, he would have to move again to get either to his room or to whatever room the doctor wanted him in, and he did not want to.

Really, anything but moving.

"The doctor should be here anytime now," she opened the door to take a peek outside. "There, he's coming now."

Finally. If he took much longer, Reinhardt would not be able to even try dictating anything about the mission before—

His wrist datapad started ringing again and no, this time it was not an alarm. It was an incoming call from the officer's meeting room.

Fuck.

"I've to take this, sorry," he sighed, and poked randomly at the small screen until it stopped ringing. "Reinhardt speaking. Insecure channel."

"Lieutenant, would you be so kind of coming to the officers meeting?" Gabriel's voice was thick with sarcasm and contained anger, and that was enough to make Reinhardt rub the back of his neck.

"Can we sort it over a secure channel?"

"No. You—"

Suddenly, the doctor ran into the room and stopped just by Reinhardt with a very unamused face.

"Commander, this is Doctor Shollner," he interrupted Gabriel mid-sentence. "I advise against the Lieutenant leaving Med Bay for now. I've concerns about his overall health."

"Can we just borrow him for half an hour and return him to you?"

The doctor looked at Reinhardt intently and made a face.

"Not in good faith, no."

"Told you he's unwell," the datapad caught Ana's hiss. Her concern managed to make Reinhardt half-smile, at least.

"Are there any more problems, Commander Reyes?" Another voice, a bit more distorted, echoed on the speakers; the meeting had already started, apparently. "If the report is incomplete and we don't get to talk to the involved agents, how do you think we're going to get back to the Turkish Government?"

_Oh, no. _

"I can provide the information you need, sir," Ana quickly said. "We are just-"

"Sorry but, as the officer in Command, we need to take your reporting with a pinch of salt, if you know what I mean," someone else said. "It's already unfortunate enough that the officer that managed the cannon that supposedly blew up the Hagia Sophia is indisposed."

_For fuck's sake. _

"I'll go," Reinhardt looked at the doctor. He was glaring at him, arms crossed. "Just half an hour, _ja _? I can do it."

He would limp there like a dying dog, but he could do it.

Probably.

"Reinhardt, don't-"

He tapped at his datapad before he could hear Ana's complaint. He hated doing this to her, but he would apologize later, once they had dealt with the Board as a team.

"I strongly disapprove, Lieutenant."

"Believe me, I've zero interest in going. But I have to," he rubbed his eyes, then let his hand drop on his lap. "Can you make me a bit presentable for the UN's Board?"

"Here we are," Faith said after having walked with Reinhardt all the way to the officer's meeting room on the upper floor. The doctor would have sent him on a wheelchair but Reinhardt had snapped in two the last one that _supposedly _could hold his weight.

"All right. You call me when you're ready to get back," she continued. "But, if the doctor texts me about the results I'm coming to fetch you straight away. Understood?"

"Right," Reinhardt nodded tiredly and knocked on the door, opening up a moment later.

Gabriel and Ana were standing up in the space made by the semicircular desk in the center of the room, arms folded behind their uniformed backs. Simmons was sitting at a table behind them, looking both serious and a moment away from freaking out.

Of course, the UN Board was on via video-conference, and Reinhardt did his best not to look directly at the screen.

"Sorry I'm late," he said when everyone turned around to look at him. He leaned his right shoulder on the wall and ignored their looks. No, he was not sitting down. And yes, he was still wearing his hoodie and slippers. And the sunglasses. And he gave no fucks about what the Board would think of him.

"Lieutenant Wilhelm, thanks for joining us," Gabriel made a gesture towards him. "We were discussing about the great job the team did—"

"Ah, don't start again, Commander," one of the members of the UN board said. "This mission was a disaster of biblical proportions, and we still have no idea what we are going to tell the Turkish Government."

"That our team liberated their country, at last? They're welcome, though."

"Don't be so impertinent, Reyes," another member of the board snapped. "Now that things are returning to normalcy, we need to be careful. The least we want is to start a war among ourselves, now."

"Nobody's trying to start a war, sir," Gabriel said, and Reinhardt could swear he had _heard _him roll his eyes. "Do I need to remind the board that the Omnics were powering up a small-scale omnium underneath the Hagia Sophia?"

Oh, shit. That was the first time Reinhardt heard about that, but it sure explained why they were so entrenched. Why they had that blasted cannon, too. He made a thin line with his mouth. It was a good thing they destroyed the Omnics before they could regroup. Recreate. Rebuild- _Re-whatever _.

He changed the weight from one leg to another, forcing his replaced knee to hold him in the hopes of distracting himself from his back. Probably screwing with it was not the best idea, but the pain was getting sharper by the minute, not helping the nausea at all. And he really, _really _rather not puke his guts out in front of the Board.

However, the movement, albeing minimal, stirred something on his right side- something that sank its teeth inside him and would not let go.

Fuck the big screen. Fuck his back. Fuck the painkillers, and fuck it all in no specific order.

The conversation continued; Gabriel and Ana took different turns explaining what happened to the Board, but half of the conversation was going way over Reinhardt's head as he focused on breathing.

Not that it mattered.

"That does not make the destruction of the building any more acceptable," someone pointed out _again. _It was the only thing they had in mind, the bloody building, and it was grating on his nerves. Fuck the Board, specially.

"Maybe, but they made the decision of blowing up the cannon," Gabriel shrugged. "Probably trying to save their secret operation underneath while obliterating my team."

"Your team should have stopped that cannon in the first place, Commander," Goldsmith said, crossing his arms over his desk. "We have the best engineers in the planet working for Overwatch, you just can't-"

Reinhardt interrupted him by slamming his open hand on the wall. He was absolutely fed up of the back and forth going nowhere, but he could just ignore it. But trying to throw dirt on his friend? No. That was not going to happen.

"If Chief Engineer Lindholm decided the blast could not be stopped, it was _because_ _it could not be stopped_," he said slowly, having trouble to find the words. "How do you dare to infer that he did less than he, ah- than he could when he isn't even here to defend himself?"

The Board members went _livid _, their faces pinched in badly-suppressed anger. Good. That was worth looking at the bloody screen. Even Gabriel and Ana had turned to face him, surprised first, then glaring a hole through him.

"Our _way too enthusiastic _Lieutenant has a point," the Commander said almost among teeth, turning around. Once his hands were at his back again, he gave Reinhardt the middle finger with both. "A cannon the size the one reported by the team would have obliterated the building, if left to overload."

The fact that they were discussing this as if it was news meant they had not even read the report despite all the effort Ana had put on it. Fuck them a thousand times.

"The Chief Engineer _knew _something was brewing and- and he acted in consequence, risking his own life to control the-ah, explosion." Reinhardt continued, talking among teeth.

There was a moment of silence, only broken by the sound of his heartbeat thumping on his ears. Head up and straight, he made a great effort to just close his eyes instead of squeezing them in a grimace. His side was killing him. Truly. And he did not even know why.

"Lieutenant-"

"Left to its own devices, the cannon would have— would have killed everyone and would have leveled up the whole building, like the Commander said. I fully stand by the Chief Engineer's-"

Reinhardt groaned at the throbbing spreading from his side to the very last bone in his body. _Holy mother of all shits _. He was in enough pain to share between three like him and still be rather bad. His legs trembled, and he leaned awkwardly on the wall trying to keep himself straight without making the pain worse.

Not would do.

"Hey," Ana's small hands found his sling-bound arm, his hip. "You look like shit. _Real shit _. Let's get you back to Med Bay right now."

She was precious. He would give an arm to keep her always as close as she was right now. But the usually lovely smell of pines and mint of her shampoo made his stomach churn violently. Trying to get away from her, he took an unsteady step; pain exploded every_ fucking _where, taking his breath away and choking his cry halfway through.

His legs gave out and he fell on his knees. Not that he felt it. He was too busy chucking his guts out. And dying when every dry-retching bout set his nerves on fire again.

Seconds became hours.

Minutes, ages.

Finally, at some point in the next millennia, Reinhardt registered that he was sitting on the carpet. He was distantly aware of the rancid taste of acid, tears, and snot on the back of his mouth. Distantly, because his midsection and back throbbed with his heartbeat, dampening any other feeling.

He swallowed miserably, but did not even have the energy to complain or even open his eyes. He was tired. _So unnaturally tired. _Even if he were not hurting to the last eyelash, he would not be able to move.

"Easy," Ana was holding his forehead, he realized, her body pressed to his but careful of his injuries. "The doctors will be here any moment now and they'll drug you up to your eyeballs."

That would be a blessing, for a change. But only if they did it _before _they moved him to Med Bay. Just thinking of moving an inch made him nauseous again.

"Hey, eyes on my handsome mug." The Commander snapped his fingers in front of him when he grimaced. "Yeah, talking to you, man. Ana's about to chop my balls and serve them to me diced- don't want to do what she'll do if you die on her, now."

Ana's hands trembled and she quickly took them away. She got up, too, and Reinhardt missed her immediately. Not only her warmth and the closeness of her touch, but also the way she had been supporting part of his weight.

His muscles tensed, trying to keep him upright, and he wheezed at the fresh pain that made him see white spots in front of his eyes.

"Hey, hey, shit-" Gabriel's hands stabilized him, and soon his face ended resting on something warm and hard. Ribs, his mind somehow supplied, because they had boobs just above. _Ana's _. His good shoulder leaned on her hip and, after a brief quaking on Ana's side, the pain decreased enough for Reinhardt to breathe again. "There. That'll help you feel better."

"I'm so going to kill you," Ana's voice was like steel, yet a small hand ran through Reinhardt's hair and held his head in place.

"I'm just making sure that, if he dies, he does so _happy _."

Their voices were starting to blend together, and the only thing Reinhardt cared about right now was sleeping or straight passing out, whatever was quicker. Unfortunately, even if his brain refused to translate to English any longer, it would not shut down.

He really wished it would when the doctors arrived.

Someone spew a bunch of English words right in front of his face. He knew that voice. Faith. Her small warm hands reached for his neck, then opened his eyelids one at a time. The light of a torch blinded him and made his stomach churn again, and Reinhardt knew he would not survive another bout of retching. Shit, no.

Ana held him tighter when he writhed weakly, trying to escape the nurse. As if in retaliation, Faith pressed his abdomen just under the ribs on the right side; impossible as it seemed, he found the strength to cry out.

-00oooo00-

Ana dropped to her knees when Reinhardt curled in a ball of misery as much as his body would go- which was not much. He weighed like a truck, though, and she was not strong enough to keep him upright without his help. Thankfully, the two orderlies that had rushed in with the doctor a while before reached out to grab him.

She gave them a grateful nod then glared at the nurse because really, the last thing Reinhardt needed was to feel worse than he already was.

"Sorry big guy," the nurse sighed, oblivious to her glare and priming an injection-pen that contained a clear liquid inside. "It'll be over soon, ok? I'll give you a shot now. Two, actually."

While the orderlies sandwiched Reinhardt to keep him upright with Ana's help, the nurse prepared his arm.

"It was absolutely irresponsible on your part, Commander!" The doctor's voice echoed in the room. He and Gabriel had been talking in angry hisses, but apparently their argument had reached the critical point. "He could be dead. Damn it, he's not dead only because you'll need a freaking nuke to kill him, but this has gone way too far."

"Listen, I have a-"

"Guys, eyes back here," the nurse snapped her fingers a couple of times. "Let's go in three, two, one."

With a bit of cooperation, they rolled the Crusader on a stretcher, favouring his left side. He barely whimpered at being moved, and Ana did not know if that was because he was half-unconscious or drugged, but she hated it all the same. Hated, hated, _hated _to see him this helpless and sick.

"Hey, Faith. He's bleeding," one of the orderlies frowned. The nurse unzipped the hoodie and exposed Reinhardt's back; a red stain was growing diagonally over the bandages, but that did not bother Ana as much as the uncovered skin.

It was mostly black and blue even on his _good _side. She looked at her feet when her brain reminded her of the ton of rubble that fell over him and Torbjörn; her hands were shaking so much she had to cross her arms and squeeze them against herself.

It was ridiculous. She was a soldier. She was more than used to see people die. Every time they got into the aircraft they knew they may not return.

She made her peace with her own demise long ago. It was something that weighed on her conscience, though, the idea of leaving Fareeha alone in the world, but she tried to be careful. In the same way, she was careful to protect the lives of others; even more that of her strange family members.

The thought made her shiver, and she knew she was on the right track of what had been bothering her this much. Torbjörn's injuries were so severe he was still in danger, and the idiot- She bit her lower lip. True, it was the first time her family almost died under her command since Samalut, but she had almost lost Jack and Gabriel several times before. Too many for her taste, really.

Losing any of them would be like losing a limb; Jack, who was both sunshine and mischief; the king of American food with bland spices, batter, and BBQs. The only one that ever knew how to get to her without asking, just by sheer empathy and observation skills.

And Gabriel, who was a thoughtful little shit and the best dancer she would ever meet. The best at making cookies and cakes. The absolute hero of needles and threads. The man she would devote all her art to, if there was a single artistic bone on her.

Yet, the idea of not seeing the German man-child again made her shake in her boots.

_Why. Why? It doesn't happen with Torbjörn, and I like the grumpy man a whole more than it's healthy. It doesn't make any sense. _

Clearly, she must book a session with the counsellor.

"It's ok," the nurse opened a package of sterile gauze and applied pressure to the bleeding with it- then taped it to the rest of the bandages. "Will take care of it later. Guys, let's go now."

The orderlies strapped Reinhardt to the stretcher the best they could, then pushed a bunch of buttons to make it hover over the ground. He was so still, though. So pale. He had lost his sunglasses at some point, and his closed eyes sank under dark circles.

Her fingers ran through his golden hair before Ana could even realize it, carefully, so very carefully not to bump into the stitches. She would go with them to Med Bay to make sure he was fine. Safe. That neither Gabriel nor the Board would screw it up again.

How could they, really.

Her hands shook again and she cursed inwardly. If she could not apologize about the chocolate earlier-

If he did not get up from there and squeeze the air out of her again-

If she could not listen to any more of his stories or give him the back when he was being an insufferable show-off at the gym…

She did not know what she would do.

A shudder spread through her body like wildfire, tingling in her arms, squeezing her throat. She tried to swallow, to control herself. Shit. She had not felt like this since-

Ana sucked in a breath and withdrawn her hand from Reinhardt's head in one go.

_Samalut _.

She had not felt like this since Samalut. Since Sam was half-dead inside his robotank.

Her heartbeat skyrocketed. A million thoughts flashed on her mind; smiles, laughs, stories. Happiness, despite the war. Nights shared over biscuits and horrible old films.

Hope.

Hope of retiring from active duty. Of training soldiers, perhaps, or doing boring paperwork for Gabriel. Of walking Fareeha to school and cultivating a small garden in their small house… House the idiot German could fill with his smile while bumping against every piece of furniture they had.

Her eyes burned. Her chest burned, her face burned, and her ice-cold arms shook up to her shoulders.

_" _Captain, are you feeling alright?"

Faith had both of her hands on Ana's arms, and she bit inside her mouth. Hard.

"I'm- I'm tired. Long week," she stuttered. There was no way she could have hidden the tears forming in her eyes, but the nurse did not point them out.

"Ah, I'll take care of her," coming from nowhere, Gabriel put an arm around Ana's shoulders and squeezed her against his body. "Do your magic with the Lieutenant and report back with his condition ASAP, ok?"

"Sure… Come by if you need anything, ok?" The nurse squeezed her arms one time, and let her go.

The moment the medical team left the meeting room, Ana shoved Gabriel out of her way. Or tried to, because the Commander only squeezed her closer.

"It's OK, Ana-"

"No, it's not!" she slammed her fists on his chest. "This is all your fault, fuck you-"

"Oh, oh, language miss," he snorted sofly, getting her on a bear hug that hid her face on his shoulder. "Hush, now. It's fine. He'll be fine. You heard the doc, only a nuke would kill him."

"That's not the problem!" Ana sobbed, long tears burning her eyes.

Shit. _Shit _. Fine, that was part of the problem, and she would give Gabriel _shit _about it once she managed to calm down. But at that moment, the only thing blaring code-red alarms in her mind was her thawing heart.

The heart that promised she would not have to worry again about _love _.

Ana stomped on Gabriel's foot and took advantage of his surprise to squiggle on his arms. Her shoulder found his chest and she threw him flying, all in one motion. He hit the ground like a bag of potatoes, just like in training but without the mats to soften the blow, and she broke into a run.

"You _feral _little bitch-" He wheezed, but she ignored him and slammed the room's door shut before sprinting down the corridor.

It could not be. It just- no.

She pushed the elevator's button several times, but when it failed to open its doors straight away, she took the stairs.

Panting, she reached the basement and rushed towards Med Bay. Her wrist datapad was beeping, but she did not care. The only thing in her mind now was to have proof. Proof that she -they- were fine. That it was just Gabriel and her broken, tired brain playing games with her, goddamn them.

Proof that she was still Ana; the woman that could never give her partners what they wanted from her. The one that had decided she was best alone, without worries, without being a burden. The guilt-ridden Captain responsible for the deaths of at least a dozen good men and women, the one that trusted just enough to get by without forming attachments-

But that was it.

She _did _form attachments. The Strike Team filled a hole in her life bigger than herself, even despite her reticence, her unwillingness. But it was fine. They had been _just fine _for years, until… now.

Once at Med Bay's doors, Ana stopped suit to force herself to calm down enough so the first nurse she met would not admit her in a ward. She had to get her facade up, even if she felt like she was about to fall on a deep black hole.

It took a nurse less than a moment to point Ana in the right direction; straight down the corridor, then to the right. No questions asked, just a sympathetic look.

She could live with that.

The new ICU was larger and better furnished than the old rooms were. All the rooms had at least two beds and large glass panels to allow the nurses a quick look at their patients, although they had binders that could be closed for privacy.

A total of twenty beds were in use at the moment, half of them by direct reports of her; good men and women fighting for their lives. Intubated, bandaged, sedated. Even those with no apparent external injuries were bleeding inside. Scarred for life.

Ana kept walking, but seeing Torbjörn in his room made her stop again; with the tight deadline of the report she had not been able to visit him just yet. He was as pale as the sheets he was lying on, his dark blond mane caught in a ponytail over his chest. The gauze covering half of his face and the heavily-bandaged stump of his left shoulder glared at her.

How many more dead or crippled colleagues and broken families would she carry on her conscience before the war ended? How many more could she endure?

Without realizing it, her feet had carried her all the way to almost the end of the corridor. Behind one of the glass panels were the doctor and the nurse from before. And, of course, Reinhardt himself.

He was lying on his right side, his bad arm resting on a large pillow that kept his shoulder aligned with his body. Mostly naked -because years ago the nurses got fed up of him ripping out gowns as if they were made of paper- but for a sheet wrapped around his waist.

The bandages were gone, and she grimaced at the mess of bruises and needlework that was his back. The nurse was hooking his arms to a machine that Ana had no idea what-oh. She tapped something in the datapad and one of the lines filled with blood. Moments later it disappeared into a machine, only to be back into his body through the other line.

That was not just plain pain management. Ana bit inside her mouth. Perhaps the experimental painkillers were making him sick? That would make sense.

Reinhardt squirmed weakly and the nurse strapped him to the bed before patting him in the arm. It was good that he was more responsive than before but, on the other side, it sucked if he was still in p-

"Finally found you, fucking hell," Gabriel's voice made her jump in her skin and turn around. He was walking towards her with long strides, his uniform crumpled and his shirt half-unbuttoned. "Are you- oh. Well, not hugging you again, sorry. My ass still hurts."

She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. She was not sorry, not at all, but appreciated that he went looking for her all the same- even if she did not exactly want him there.

"What's got you so riled up? And don't tell me it's him," he growled and made a gesture towards the window. Then, suddenly, his frowny expression morphed into a cheeky one. "Oh. Has my little chick grown wings at last?"

"It's not- It's not that, whatever it means," Ana crossed her arms, if only to stop herself from hiding her face in her hands. "And shut up, I mean it. I've come here for- for answers. Answers not polluted by your twisted games."

"Ouch," Gabriel put a hand on his chest, then rolled his eyes. "Come on, Ana. You're the only one that's not seen this coming."

"Just because you find it _funny _to mess with my head it doesn't mean-"

"These past months? You've been happy as a clam," he snorted, but his voice was void of malice. "_ Happy _. Yes, you, Captain 'I'm better alone, get out of my way'. And you've made him the happiest man on Earth. Did you even realize that?"

Ana's throat tightened on an impossible knot.

He was surprisingly right. She had looked forward to the afternoons where Reinhardt had come around to tell Fareeha stories. Sometimes they also had dinner, watched a film. Some nights they had stayed up for hours, just chatting about- nonsense, really: places around the world. People. Plans, ideas.

She had missed him these months they had been apart, that was the truth, but she thought it was because his laugh and his good spirits were contagious. Also because, really, he was just a call away now that he interacted with her frequently instead of watching from the sidelines.

He had even picked up this habit of sending her stupid pictures and messages while he was deployed, making her laugh in the middle of the most boring and serious meetings.

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, the only thing that seemed alive in her otherwise frozen body. It had felt so natural to fall in sync once she had allowed him to be himself than she had not even realized-

Ana looked around without really seeing, trying to breathe. She let him in when she stepped up to fix their friendship.

Like an idiot.

"Ana, I can see in your eyes you're going to do something stupid."

"That's my line, you know," she sniffled, her voice broken.

"It's only fair I get to say it at least once," Gabriel's mischievous look lasted a moment. "Ah, only you would make a drama of something _good _. You and Jack. Bloody hell," he sighed, then continued. "Look. You don't need to do anything now. The war is almost over; you could buy that house you're always talking about and then perhaps think about giving Fareeha a blonde little sister..."

A sob shook her shoulders when he mentioned her dream house and he was there a second later, hiding her on his chest again.

She hated feeling like this. Yes, Gabriel was right- Intrinsically it was a good thing, but this new _development _shook the very foundation of everything she rebuilt after Samalut.

It terrified her to _feel _like she did then. To care like that. Not to say she did not trust herself to be able to fulfill her duties. Her situation with Sam was different in the Egyptian Army; they were together when she enlisted but they were on different squadrons until the war reached their country and it all went to hell.

She just could not bear being exposed to taking the same decision on every mission.

"You're a handful, you know that?" Gabriel squeezed her in his strong arms and let her cry. "You and Jack," he continued after a while. "And that big jerk over there. And the angry beard in the other room- you all are going to walk away from this shit of a war. Understand? And you will have the lives you were robbed of."

Ana dug her fingers on his back when it became painfully obvious that he would not include himself in the pretty picture. Gabriel rarely talked about his marriage, his life away from Overwatch. She had seen the pictures; the baby girl he barely knew, the ever-waiting wife. The dog… And she had also seen the way he looked at Jack and how incredibly fulfilled his job made him feel.

They were screwed up. Truly screwed up.

"Hey. It looks like the doc wants a word about your prince charming there," Gabriel said after a moment of silence. "Want to join us?"

No. Yet, she could not keep squeezing their Commander for much longer or the rumours were going to reach the other side of the continent- and there were more than enough rumours already.

Ana sniffled and let him go. Her eyes itched -the enhancements did not enjoy being drowned in salty tears- and she wiped them with a hand before turning around.

She still did not know what she was going to do, but she was good at solving problems. And now that she knew why she had been so angry, upset, and overall on edge during the past thirty-six hours, she could do something about the whole thing.

Even if it was something stupid, like Gabriel said.

The doctor was looking at them behind the glass impatiently, if she read his face correctly. With a nod, she followed Gabriel inside the small room- noting that it was only small because the bed and the machines made up for almost two-thirds of the space.

"Commander, Captain, hope I didn't interrupt anything," he lowered his head a bit. "I've news, and you requested a report ASAP."

"Of course, shoot," Gabriel cleared his throat, and spared a glance at Reinhardt. "How's he?"

"Stable, for now. But he's-" a long, dog-like whine interrupted him, and the three of them turned to see the Crusader squirm weakly despite the nurse's efforts to keep him still. "-uncomfortable. Will be for some hours, I'm afraid, until we cleanse his bloodstream and help his liver unclog."

"His liver? Wow, do we know what happened?"

"The experimental drug was quite the failure, I'm afraid," the doctor's voice sounded disappointed. "Not only its analgesic power is quite limited, its base active elements in large amounts are toxic to his immune system."

"Shit. And we-?"

"Let me finish. We have _safety _protocols, which we followed to a T. Put simply, the base elements are extremely common in analgesics we all take frequently. The real issue came when the nanites bonded to the phenacetin and the propionic acid was-"

"In English, please."

"His body hated the mix of the nanites and the drugs, kicking his immune system into overdrive," the doctor tried again, more slowly this time. "The more the nanites bonded with the drugs, the worse the symptoms got across his body."

Ana knew next to nothing about medicine, but she remembered her aunt's battle with an autoimmune disease that attacked most of her joints, deforming them. She was in bad pain every day until she died, despite her medication.

"When his liver started breaking up bonded nanites, it freaked out. Unfortunately, liver pain radiates to the back until it becomes severe, so I couldn't be sure without blood tests until- well. Now."

"Something else for his extensive medical records, I guess," Gabriel shrugged, then looked at Ana before continuing. "Will he be all right, though?"

"Most likely. We're cleansing his blood as we speak. When that's done, we'll give him immunosuppressants and will pulverize the nanites clogging his liver using ultrasounds. The remaining particles should be OK for him."

Ana bit inside her mouth when Reinhardt squirmed again, his fingers clawing at the bedding as he tried to curl. It broke her heart to see him like this.

"Good," Gabriel continued. "Now that we're on with the sob stories, how's the Chief Engineer doing?"

"No changes for now. That's not bad, yet. While his body is mending, it needs all the rest that can get."

"He's got a hard skull, he'll be fine," Gabriel snorted, looking at his feet. "Thanks, doc. Appreciate your work."

"Welcome. But don't try so hard to undo it, please, Commander."

"Yeah, duly noted," he rubbed his frown with a thumb. He looked remorseful for his standards, although Ana knew it was a charade to get away without further reprimand._ Mostly _.

"Faith will stay with the Lieutenant for a while, ensure he doesn't rip the lines off his arms. Keep him company," the doctor put his hands on the pockets of his coat and shrugged. "I'll be back in a while. Ah, and I need to fill up a report about this to the Board and the Dove's Commission, since- well. It was an internal incident."

"Yeah," Gabriel rolled his eyes. "I'll claim responsibility for what happened, if it helps. They're going to skin me alive, anyway."

The doctor left them to get into the room just in front of Reinhardt's. Ana had expected Gabriel to bolt the moment he was free, but he remained with her and the nurse for a moment. He was frowning, eyes glued on the tiles in front of him- thinking, most likely.

"Now that I know you'll not get into a killing spree, I'll get back to work," he said out of the blue after a couple of minutes of quiet contemplation, and was already at the door before Ana could say anything.

She went after him.

"Wait. When do you plan to call the Board again?"

"Don't know yet. Once they're a bit less angry, perhaps," he snorted, stopping by the wall. "Though that may not happen in this century."

Ana had been too busy helping Reinhardt to pay much attention around her, but there had been more than a couple of angry words aimed at Gabriel. She could not side with his decision of taking the Crusader out of Med Bay, but their Commander had been damned for doing it and for _not _doing it, too.

Typical of the Board.

"OK, just let me know. I can rewrite-"

"No. Go to the counsellor, have a good chat," he shook his head and ran a hand through his short curls. "Rest. Sort yourself out- at least enough so I know which teams I can count on when we need to get out there."

She made a line with her lips. Gabriel knew her so well it hurt.

"I don't want to cause any trouble…"

"It's no trouble. We just need to plan ahead, because-" he let go a long sigh. He looked worn out, but he had not looked healthy since the smoke started being part of his life. "We need you. And him. At least for now."

"I'll figure it out," Ana nodded slowly, fixing a lock of hair behind her ear.

Somehow.

The visit to the counsellor that same afternoon had been _enlightening _. Apparently, he had been aware of what was going on for ages. So much, he set Reinhardt up to share his life with Ana and Fareeha to both help him and encourage her to finally lower her walls.

Fuck him, really. It worked like a charm, but it was really low.

"It is good for you, Ana," he had said to her. "You need to stop _surviving _and start living again. You are ready for it."

"I almost buried everyone alive under a ton of rubble! How's that being ready for-?"

"OK, stop there. You could not have had the certainty that it was going to collapse. Was it a possibility? Yes. An educated guess for someone more acquaintanced with buildings? Perhaps. Are any of those facts related in any way or form to your personal life? Absolutely not."

"You go to unhealthy lengths to keep everyone under your command safe and alive, but you are a sniper. First and foremost. Ascended way above your merits due to the war, just like everyone else these days. But don't berate yourself over something you were not qualified to deal with, please."

And what was she qualified for, then? Just killing? Because if she was a lousy Captain and a lousy mother (she would apologize to Fareeha later, it was a promise), there were not many other things she knew how to do.

Damn it all. If there was something around she could kick to oblivion, it would be outside of the orbit of the Earth already.

Ana pushed the door of the officer's kitchen open; it was late, she should be preparing for bed- but she was not in the mood to go to her room and face Fareeha. Or worse, be left alone with her thoughts in the dark. It was either coffee or the gym, and the later already made her think of her _idiot _problem.

She hoped he was doing better already.

"That won't happen, you hear me? Not while I live."

Gabriel's words made her stop by the door and look at the super soldiers, who were practically bent over the same table, snarling at each other and now, also glaring at her. He let go a fistful of Jack's shirt and sat down on his chair like a kid with a tantrum. There was even a broken mug on the ground, its pieces drowning on chocolate milk.

"What's going on?" She asked, hoping she was not kicking the hornet's nest. She was so not in the mood for anything that was not spread chocolate on toast.

Jack got up, dragging his chair and making the most noise possible while at it. There was something in his eyes that she could not read when he spared a last glance at the Commander before storming out.

"Don't tell me- Somehow, you managed to do something stupid before I could even have the chance," she snorted, going to the computer in the wall and requesting a robot cleaner. Then, she poured herself a mug of milk from the bottle in the fridge.

When Ana turned around, Gabriel was not there anymore.

Goddamnit.


	13. The Middle Years (1), Aug 2053 (5 days)

With the heel of her foot, Ana tapped the wall that provided her cover. She was in the middle of a residential neighbourhood in Italy, partially hidden at the rooftop of an unoccupied building that was still standing. The Strike Team had been deployed there urgently following the lead of the last active God program, Hermes—but they had found nothing so far.

Gabriel and the team had combed the suspected building—a construction of more than fifty years that stood half in ruins in front of Ana—reviewing any computer port they could find. There was no sign of Hermes; the bastard was better than other programs at playing hide and seek, as they well knew already.

The only good news was that they had found no resistance so far; Hermes had less and less combat Omnics to control. Of course, the original non-combat models were still around, hiding in pockets, doing tasks for their master; rebuilding, constructing, creating. Should Overwatch grow complacent of their impending victory, they could regroup and rearm, just like they were trying to do at the Hagia Sophia.

But no. Gabriel would never allow that. He was adamant about scourging each one of them. Ana was, too. Actually, anyone at Overwatch would gladly destroy all of those toasters without so much of a blink.

And, if they were not careful, they would scrap those that had come forward in a pacifistic way after having been deprogrammed, too.

It was dark, but that was no issue for Ana's enhanced eyes. Her spotter and fellow sniper Martins was perched three miles to her left, covering the rear of the building where Gabriel's team was stationed— and now, resting. They had been working almost without breaks for two days, and it had been only during that afternoon that they had spotted a backdoor in the ground floor to an unexplored basement.

Gabriel was hopeful but, the last two times they had tried to catch Hermes red-handed, they had only managed to stir the dust it had left in its wake.

Stupid programs. To think they had been engineered to make the world a better place… Torbjörn had always been right in being sceptical about the amount of power delegated on the Omnics. Ana could only hope humanity had learned their lesson.

"Hey," Jack's gruff voice on the officer's frequency made her lose her train of thought. "Is all good up there?"

The fact that Jack was not calling Gabriel, their Commander and the officer in charge of the mission —not to say his best friend— made her roll her eyes so hard she almost stopped looking through the scope.

"You've been out for two days and reports have been really scarce—" He trailed off, sighed. Ana could imagine him rubbing the back of his neck as clearly as if he was in front of her.

"And you worried." She squinted at a shadow a mile away from her, but that was all it was; a shadow. It irked her. "I'm tired already of this game between you and Gabriel, and it's not even been a week. Can you, for goodness' sake, tell me what's wrong with you two already?"

More silence.

She grabbed a salted biscuit from her supply bag and forced herself to munch it slowly. Otherwise, she would just glomp it down and first hiss at Jack, and then at the world. Not good. Living on cookies and caffeine pills sucked; she needed to get to terms with herself ASAP.

_Sigh. And there I thought that this mission would help clear my head. _

The only reason Ana had agreed to join the team was that someone had to keep an eye on Gabriel. Not to babysit him, but just in case he needed a hand with the smoke. It had not been the case in the last six months and nowadays he always had some medication on him to control the symptoms, but still.

"You know what?" Jack mumbled. "It'll be best if we chatted."

With that, the communication went silent again. A moment later, though, Ana's wrist datapad flashed.

"He wants to divorce his wife," Jack's words read.

Goddamnit. But knowing Gabriel, he would send her and the kid the same money he was sending home now. It still hurt to know he had given up on his life, though. Even if it was probably for the best.

With a flick of her wrist, she spawned a low-intensity light-based keyboard and hid in a corner where she would not be spotted.

"And how does that inconvenience you, exactly?"

It took Jack a good long moment to answer.

"Because he's doing it for my sake."

Ana blinked. She had seen Gabriel looking at Jack with that haunted look that meant feelings were involved, but she had never been sure which kind of feelings were those. Sure, Jack was bisexual with a clear preference for guys, but Gabriel— he had never seemed to be interested in guys before. At least, in none other than Jack.

But perhaps she was reading too much on it. It was time to wrinkle out more information from Jack.

"For your sake. As in…?"

"After what happened with Reinhardt, the Board approached me to run for the Strike Commander position."

Oh. Oh damn. It did not surprise her, though, but she had not imagined it would happen so quickly.

"They said Gabe is too unpredictable. Too unreasonable. Has a problem following orders, pushes the team too hard."

"Which is not wrong, to be honest."

"Right. But he's done a great job as Commander. Let me remind you he never asked for that position."

His protectiveness made Ana snort softly. Yeah, the day they received news that their soon-to-be Commander had fallen in battle, Gabriel kept the team close. United. He gave them hope.

For a moment, she wondered how different things would have been if Von Adler had joined their ranks instead of Reinhardt… and the thought made her shake her head. Even if Von Adler had been the most level-headed person on Earth —in addition to a little shit and the best Commander Reinhardt could have ever asked for— she could not imagine Overwatch's success without Gabriel at the head.

Or her life, to be honest.

"True," she typed back. "We've almost won because of him."

Jack sent her a thumbs-up emoji.

"I told them that 8(. They made some good points, but then they said that I'd make a better Commander because I don't have a family of my own. As if that kept my head level."

"And of course you told Gabriel that."

"Yes! I was so angry about the absurdity of it and their stupid complaints— But then Gabe said he'd get a divorce to spite them and get me out of the hook. Like, you know, his marriage is a joke. His kid is a joke."

"His marriage is a paper, just like his parenthood," she typed, then rubbed her face with her hands. She had bit into more than she can chew, as usual.

"DON'T defend him."

Ana moved away from the scope of her rifle and took a look around for good measure if only to make sure she was not missing anything. Also, to collect her thoughts. This was obviously more complicated than a misunderstanding; feelings had been hurt, boundaries had been crossed… And she honestly wondered if Gabriel or Jack knew why.

Vaguely, she also wondered if they felt the same way about her being oblivious about Reinhardt.

"Couldn't it be you're overreacting?" She typed slowly, thinking each word before committing to them. "He's not divorcing his wife to marry you, nor is he hurting her or you in any form. If anything, he's giving you more chances to pursue Vince after the war's over."

Dots kept spawning under Jack's name as if he was writing something and deleting it straight away. It took him some good five minutes to come back with something.

"There's much more out there than the Army," he said at last. "He could be whatever he wanted to be, find someone else. Get help from the SEP, sort the smoke shit."

"I know. But it is his decision."

"He'll end up alone. Or dead. And I can't let him self-destruct like this," he typed furiously, the words hitting her screen instantly.

Ana checked if her rifle was loaded, which of course was, and looked around again. There was not a soul in the neighbourhood, and she grabbed a handful of biscuits and put them in her mouth in one go.

"I'll risk being blunt here, but have you considered you being upset has nothing to do with his marriage?"

It took Jack several good minutes to answer again.

"He pushed me out. Like all these years meant nothing to him and I was merely a tool he could dispose of when the war is over. I got so mad."

Gabriel was very good at sending mixed messages. That, coupled with his ability to say the wrong thing in the worst moment possible and his callous persona made him a timebomb. A usually well-intentioned one, however. Well, sometimes.

"Look, I don't know what you said to each other, but I'm sure he just wants the best for you."

_For all of us. _

"Though, perhaps his idea of what's best for you is not the same as yours," she continued, hoping she did not have to explain that one.

There was another pause filled with dots twinkling under Jack's name; at least Ana was making him think about it. Hopefully in the right direction, whatever that was.

"Did I say he wouldn't let me hunt Hermes, either? Not only he was being a jerk about his marriage, he didn't trust me either."

"Jack, you are still not cleared for duty..."

"And he's having a shit time with his problems. Just like you are. It was my turn, Ana. But he got all pig-headed."

"You mean he got over-protective."

Her words seemed to hit the right spot again, though, because Jack did not reply for a moment.

"I suck at this," he typed slowly after a while. "The Board is wrong. You should be the next Strike Commander."

"Nope," she rolled her eyes. "When the war is over I'll retire from the frontline."

"About that, Reinhardt asked me to say 'hi'," Jack sent a waving emoji. "You're not answering his messages."

"Yeah. I'm busy. Trying to do my job, you know," she typed the last few words almost smashing her fingers through the light-based keyboard. "And I've no more time for chit-chat or checking messages, so..."

"Got it. Touchy subject 8) sorry."

"Get lost. And talk to Gabriel while you're at it."

Ana flicked her wrist to lock the datapad and despawn the keyboard. Then, she randomized her playlist; music would help her focus and keep her head cool. It always did.

When the first song hit her earbuds, Ana realized not without some dread that she was listening to an instrumental playlist from the first decades of the 2000s. Courtesy of Reinhardt, of course.

The scores were amazing, though. The sounds, the feelings— It was not so long ago, yet music was another casualty of the war, like most books and films, computer games, the Internet, and everything that relied on or was backed by machines. Nowadays, soldiers could communicate over lines secured by Overwatch engineering or the UN, but 90% of the world population was almost back to the dark ages. Had been for more than five years, now.

With a long sigh, Ana resumed her job as a look-out, but her fingers burned to tap her wrist datapad and read Reinhardt's messages.

He was fine, at least. Well enough to write to her. To ask for her. It made her feel like shit to ignore him deliberately, but Ana had not yet come into terms about the new situation.

_Ignoring him like this is not going to help anyone, though _, her mind supplied. And it was right. In fact, it was so right that she called Martins, her spotter, on their shared frequency.

"Hey. How're things there?"

"Not a soul in sight. No news from the Strike Commander, either," he replied, and his voice carried over a shrug. "Anything worth mentioning there?"

"No. It's all very quiet. Makes me uneasy."

"This is not exactly a recommended neighbourhood; I think it's safe to think people are at home already."

"You are probably right," Ana looked through her scope for the umpteenth time and saw nothing of relevance. Again. " Call me in a while, ok? Just to see I'm still awake."

"Sure. Thanks for the nudge."

He closed the communication and Ana groaned inwardly, wishing she had not dispatched Jack so lightly; now she had no distraction, nobody to talk to, and a bunch of notifications she was desperate to read.

And no self-restraint.

Ana flicked her wrist once more and displayed all the muted notifications from the past five days:

**4 days ago -Reinhardt- (16:47):** Back in business! (cat_face)

**4 days ago -Reinhardt- (21:20):** I'm boooooooooooooooooooooooooooored. Can you bring Fareeha in?

**3 days ago -Reinhardt- (19:48)**: **attached pictures of random animals doing stupid things**

**2 days ago -Reinhardt- (11:38):** When are you coming back? (movie_camera) (popcorn)

**2 days ago -Fareeha- (16:40):** **attached picture of her latest school grades**

**2 days ago -Reinhardt- (23:11):** Torb has woken up! (party)(party) **attached picture of them both in hospital garments looking like shit, yet somewhat smiling**

**Yesterday -Fareeha- (09:42):** (scream) **attached picture of her holding a huge snail**

**Yesterday -Reinhardt- (11:35)**: All good there?

**Yesterday -Fareeha- (14:04)**: (rainbow)(rainbow) **attached picture of a rainbow outside the base**

**Yesterday -Jack- (17:19):** I'm calling you later if neither of you makes a decent report by dinner

**Yesterday -Reinhardt- (20:16): **How's the mission going?

**Today -Reinhardt- (02:07):** **attached a badly-edited picture of a white cat crying**

The last one arrived barely twenty minutes ago, so just before Jack called.

Ana closed her eyes for a moment and then looked through the rifle. One. Five. Ten times. On different angles. Checking the darkest spots down the street. Every single corner. The building on ruins on the east of the main street, the barren spot two miles from her spot where something had exploded not long ago.

A new song started playing; one Reinhardt liked in particular, being the film it belonged to about enormous robots and whatnots from another dimension.

Shit. What was she going to do?

She had already decided that ignoring him forever was not an option, but telling him how she felt was also off the board; Overwatch still needed to win the war and she still needed to be out of active duty to even think about really having anything.

And that, if he still wanted to after she told him about having zero interest in getting in his bed.

There was also the little issue of Ana being the worst at relationships and her innate ability to screw up.

With a frustrated shake, she unlocked the datapad and opened the chat window to read Reinhardt's messages again. Surely Jack had already told him that they were fine, but that crying cat was staring into her very soul.

Regardless of how scared she was and how difficult this was probing to be for her, Reinhardt deserved better.

"We're good," she typed. "I should be doing my job instead of thinking about you. Busy. I'll see you soon, k?"

Sent.

Ana looked at the datapad for a bunch of seconds, then shook her head. It was twenty to three in the bloody morning, he would be sleeping. Tomorrow —that's it, later that same day— he would—

**Today -Reinhardt- (02:37):** K. Stay safe.

Oh. That had to be the shortest message he had written to her. It's coldness made Ana stare at the screen for longer than she should. She must have woken him up. Yeah. That's most likely what had happened. But...

But what if he had read her message the wrong way? It would be of no surprise, considering it sounded terrible now that she had read it again.

Ugh, damn it. Why didn't I add some emojis to it? Stupid. Stupid, d.

She took a deep breath and let her shoulders sag. She better start thinking about what she was going to tell him once they were face to face.

—-

A while later, not long after Ana had to take a couple of additional caffeine pills, Gabriel and his team had resumed their efforts.

Capturing a God program was not an easy task; it was not physically in one location. Or, at least, not physically as a person could be. Its data was distributed among several systems, so Overwatch's best bet had always been severing the ties between those systems to force the program to reconstruct itself. While so, the programs were more vulnerable, more static.

Split enough of their systems, and they would stay in one place enough for the main part to be quarantined. That was exactly what Gabriel's team was trying to do.

Ana did not know the specifics nor she was interested in them, but if they managed to capture Hermes, the war would be over at last.

Overwatch had been trying to capture Hermes for six months already, during which the Strike Team had been trying to destroy the last pockets of Omnic activity to force Hermes to play the few cards it had left. Maybe the operation White Dome had pushed it over the edge. Ana truly hoped so. It would at least give her some measure of peace to know that the people that fell under her command were instrumental to global peace.

They would be remembered. She would make sure of it.

_Stop overthinking. Just stop. Focus on the music. _

The particular piece in her earbuds was an orchestral suite composed for flute and piano, with a good bunch of string instruments as a base. Breathtaking. Bittersweet yet hopeful. Made her wonder what sort of film it belonged to.

_The story of my life, surely — agh, I'm positively the worst at not thinking. _

It was in this back and forth against herself, about a quarter to five in the morning, that Ana's comm device buzzed to life.

"Movement in my alley," Martins murmured on their shared comms. "Dark clothes. Four. Men, I think. Not Omnics."

"Armed?"

"Can't see any weapons. Going your way."

Ana adjusted her rifle so she could take a look at the strangers. They were quite well-built men, and their clothes hid almost every inch of their skin. The way they walked close to the walls without wasting a movement made Ana think they were professionals.

Soldiers? Mercenaries? What were they doing there?

"Commander, we have company. But it's not the Omnics. They don't seem interested in your building, though. At least not yet."

It took Gabriel a moment to groan an answer.

"Don't engage for now. We want to cover our tracks as much as we can. We're onto something."

"Copy that. We'll be on standby," she said, even though her orders were not what Ana had wanted to hear. The newcomers had stopped by a corner as if they were waiting for something. Or perhaps they were making sure they were not being followed. Suspicious. Very suspicious.

"Captain, a fire has broken through in, ah… six miles to your southeast," Martins pointed out.

Shit. And Gabriel said they were onto something, did he not? This was not a coincidence. Could not be.

"Commander, someone's burning buildings around us—" Ana trailed off when a detonation built the fire into a full blaze that she could see from her position. Shit. And the mysterious guys had all but banished. "There's just been an explosion. The suspects have melted with the shadows, too."

"You think those men are disrupting our operation?"

"I don't know, but we should move. I cannot guarantee we've not been compromised."

In the distance, she could hear fire engines blaring; it would not be long until the whole place was crawling with police and firemen. Ana could only hope her building was not on fire. Nor Martins'. Or Gabriel's, for that matter.

That also made her consider if perhaps Gabriel was looking in the wrong building. Well, it was too late now to even—

"Ana!" Gabriel's urgent call almost made her jump on her skin. "We've got it! Hermes! It's trapped!"

Well, shit. Her superpowers, as Reinhardt always called them, were tingling— and she was not going to repeat what happened in Turkey. Not again.

"Well then get the fuck out of there ASAP, you hear me? This is just too much of a coincidence."

Gabriel did not answer straight away, but their building was not on fire. Yet.

"Martins, how're things there?"

"Cannot see the men. The building is burning all the way now. I think we should move— the heat is getting too intense and our buildings are hardly fire-proof."

"Yeah, stay safe. We should be—"

"Everyone, get to the rally point. We're getting out of here now!" Gabriel's voice boomed in everyone's comms, his signal taking precedence to any other.

Good. Ana stayed put at her position, her eye glued to the scope of her rifle. This was why she was there for, and she would be damned to run when the team needed her the most.

"Captain, you staying there?" Martins' voice wavered a bit as if he was uncertain of what to do.

"Yeah, for now. Rendezvous with the team. I won't stay here long."

The team did not take long to scramble out of the building, weapons ready. Gabriel was but a dark shadow giving orders with his shotguns. Ana could not see who or what he was shooting at, so she repositioned to have a clearer view of the far end of the street. The firemen engines were close by now, and the air was thick with smoke and plastic residues from the fire.

She raised the volume of the music on her earbuds and breathed deeply through the mouth. Then, she took a shot — there was a man clad in black peeking from behind a car wreck, a gun in his hand pointing at their soldiers.

He dropped to the ground like a puppet, and soon blood pooled under his head.

It had been ages since Ana had killed anyone.

_Music. Focus on the music. _

Gabriel and the team were fighting their way into the street, and it took her a good moment to see where the shots were coming from; the building next to her. Maybe there was another sniper? No, not a sniper. The team was exchanging shots, not getting decimated on the spot.

Unfortunately, she did not have the enemy within shot, nor the means to rappel to the next building easily. What she did have, however, were more targets popping from the shadows to flank the team from behind.

If only they had a barrier… but she would have to do.

"Get down of that building, now," the Commander's gruffed on her comms, and Ana ignored him until her next target was another corpse on the ground

"Too dangerous. You guys still need cover."

"Stop being stubborn."

"Learned from the best."

She heard Gabriel groaning under his breath, but she did not try to make sense of his swearing; another corpse decorated the pavement, her fifth confirmed kill.

_Breathe. _

"I'm sending you the fucking aircraft there. Get in when it arrives, clear?"

It was going to be interesting to see how the pilot was going to get her in without smashing the aircraft against the building.

A man was singing in one of Ana's supposedly instrumental songs. His voice was deep and rich, but that was all she could make of the song over the shots and the burning building.

Stupid noise. Stupid fire. Stupid people ambushing their team.

At least she cannot see any more potential threats. The team was making its escape down the street taking cover in the same spots where she had killed their ambushers.

Why? Why would people—as opposed to Omnics—try to kill them? They were clad in Overwatch colours, they were extremely recognizable. It was impossible that these men were trying to rob them.

But then—

The noise increased exponentially, making Ana cringe and curl on the rooftop. It was not until she realized that a gust of air came with the noise that she looked up.

Their fucking aircraft was hovering over her. On the pilot seat, an adolescent with dark short hair parted in the middle, a goofy smile on his face— waved at her.

The aircraft's ramp opened up and, from it dangled a rope.

"Welcome to Lacroix Airlines, Captain. May I request that you join me inside?" If the absurdity of it all was not enough, he had a funny French accent.

Ana obliged, if only because beggars could not be choosers, and a couple of minutes later she was walking towards the cabin as the aircraft flew through the buildings towards the rendezvous point.

The pilot was a kid. He was not even ten years older than Fareeha. Shit, he could barely grow a beard.

"Cadet Lacroix at your service, ma'am."

"Aren't you a bit young for this?"

Their Overwatch pilots had been officers in their respective Armies. Always. To ensure that, at least, they were not giving an armed aircraft to a monkey.

She would have yet another conversation with Gabriel.

"Been told that a lot, ma'am," the adolescent did not stop grinning as the aircraft descended and landed flawlessly on the street.

-0000-

It was around six in the morning when Ana made it to her room. She had left her combat gear in the armoury with her rifle, but she could not be happier to take the heavy boots off. The tiled floor was cold against her tired feet, and she almost groaned in relief.

She moved like a ghost and peered into Fareeha's room; she was asleep squeezing her stuffed bunny, a gift from Jack on her last birthday. Watching her being content and carefree warmed Ana inside, giving her a peace nothing else could. Her daughter was a treasure. Her treasure.

She would embark on a thousand missions to keep her safe. To give her a chance to live in a better world. To—

Ana took a shaky breath. Even though she had even partaken in the spontaneous celebration at the aircraft, being back in her quarters gave her a false sense of continuity, tricking her mind to fall back to its old patterns.

But the war was over. Hermes was contained, and there was no reason why Fareeha would not be able to live a normal life from now on.

Nor did Ana.

There was the small problem of the ambush, though. A bunch of guys clad in black causing a ruckus the very same moment they were capturing the God program? That smelled rotten, but it would be difficult to prove for now.

Shit, she was not looking forward to dealing with the UN Board again. Better not to think about it.

Actually, she would rather think about nothing at all, but the smells from the fire imbued in her hair were too pungent to ignore. She reeked of sweat, kevlar, and blood, too— and no way she would get in bed like that for Fareeha to find her in the morning.

A good five minutes of freezing-cold water left her body shivering and her mind blank.

Once dry and clean, and always silent like a cat, Ana put on her plain cotton pyjamas and went to bed, where she curled with the blanket. It was 6:18 AM— her body ached from hours and hours of crouching and perching on places, but sleep refused to come. She could take a pill for it, but she would wake up at noon, and Fareeha would have none of it.

With a sigh, she fitted in her earbuds and shuffled through her yoga relaxation playlist; she was too tired to practice, but the breathing exercises would help her to relax.

In theory.

The end of the war had been far away four hours ago, but now… now, all of sudden, she had houses and schools to find. For real. Her stomach hated her, but it was because of the good kind of anxiety for once. Or, at least, it was a mixture of both.

What in the world was she going to do?

_Find a house big enough _, her mind supplied, and Ana grabbed the pillow and squeezed it against her face. John Williams' music waltzed in her earbuds, and she could only think of old films Reinhardt loved for some reason. _And get a couple of fridges _.

That made her chuckle humourlessly, but at least she found in her to reach for her datapad, which was resting at the nightstand. It was not the first time she browsed for properties in Switzerland; she used to search for houses with trees and flowers when things went to shit during missions.

Sure, they were not a cabana at the beach where the sun could always kiss her skin, but they had been a ray of hope when she needed it.

Now, despite how scared she may be about changes, her dream of giving Fareeha a normal life was at her hand's reach. Would it be that bad to snatch a bit of that dream for herself?

Could she?

-000-

Ana bolted upright, eyes wide open, when Fareeha jumped on her laughing.

"Mom! You were asleep with your face in the datapad," she said, having the time of her life. "Ewwww drool!"

It took Ana a moment to notice everything was fine. She was back at HQ, Fareeha was just playing, and she— she was still worn out and sleepy. Yet, there was something contagious in the kid's mood.

"Beware of the monster, ahh!" Ana rolled on the bed and tried to tickle her, but the Fareeha dropped out of her reach with ease and got back on her feet like a small cat, still giggling. When she jumped on her again and tried to perform a lock on her legs, Ana was surprised.

Proud, too, but she did not let that show.

Perhaps the training they did together was teaching her more than Ana expected. Or perhaps the guys had been playing with her too much.

"All right, _habibti _, you win. This monster is knackered..." Ana patted the bed softly, forfeiting, and rolled onto her back again.

"Pah, no fun," Fareeha crawled onto the bed and sprawled herself by Ana's side with a pout. "What were you looking at the datapad? You were smiling," she said. "You've not smiled much lately."

_Goodness gracious. _

"I've been a bit worried," Ana glued her eyes to the white ceiling and stretched. The datapad was hard against her side, reminding her of what she had been doing before dozing off. "Things are changing fast."

"What things?"

"Well… Work things, mostly. But some good things are coming out of this," she said, trying to sound hopeful. It was difficult, especially when she felt so conflicted about it herself.

"But like what?"

"Like, ah…" Ana reached out, found the kid's back and rubbed it softly. Getting a house and giving Fareeha a better life was all good and dandy but she worried her daughter would not like the idea. Not at all. "Like the kind of job I will have to do. But, what about we go to see how Torbjörn is doing today?"

She was such a coward.

"OK! But Jack promised he'd play with me at the gym."

_At the gym, eh? While being not fit for duty... _

"Sure, we'll catch up with him, too."

Ana was curious to know whether Jack had a plan to solve his problems with Gabriel, but to be fair, her own life had enough drama to worry about more. Yet, if she did not worry about the two idiots, who would?

They could not part ways on bad terms. Not on her watch. She would grab each of them by the ear and pull until they stopped being kids about— about whatever Jack had going on in his head.

"Mom you're looking all grumpy again," Fareeha sighed much in the same way their Commander would have done it.

"Sorry. You're right," Ana ran a hand over her hair, which required a good brushing. "Let's take a shower. Then breakfast, then Torbjörn. All right?" She poked Fareeha in the nose and stored her datapad safely on her nightstand, along with all the pictures of houses she had been looking at. "And we'll catch up with Jack after lunch if he's free and if you've done your homework."

And, at some point, she would go visit Reinhardt too. Yeah, at some point. To tell him what, exactly, Ana did not know yet.

After walking through Med Bay, and having left the ICU behind, Ana knocked on Torbjörn's door and took a peek inside.

"Get the fuck away from here, you big—! Oh," Torbjörn smiled tiredly from the room, raising himself a bit on the pillows with a grimace. "Come in, Ana. Ohh, pumpkin, you too,"

"What was that?" Ana closed the door after her and sat down in a chair. There was a one-seater too near the bed, prepared with pillows. A large ottoman was nearby, too, half-covered with a blanket.

"Sorry," he cleared his throat. "Thought you were Reinhardt."

That made her blink. The engineer must have felt her confusion, because he continued:

"He's being a pain in the arse!" he growled, rubbing his forehead. "I swear I'm gonna break his neck if he tells me one more time how he stopped the bloody building from squishing us."

"He hammered the pieces away as they fell!" Fareeha chirped, swinging her arms. "But for the last one, which was super enormous and had big swords like claws on it, and he just grabbed it in his arms like this—"

"Oh, my fuc—" Torbjörn bit at his hand to stop himself from cursing out loud and sank on the pillows. "Not you, too!"

Ana bit inside her mouth. Half of her wanted to smile because, with his antics, Reinhardt had taken the grittiness out of the horrible memories of that day. The other half wanted to yank his beard for romanticizing their almost-demises— even more when he did it in front of Fareeha.

The _idiot _.

"He's been keeping you company, at least?" She asked after clearing her throat.

"He _torments _me."

That actually made her smile.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," she said, watching how Fareeha leaned on the bed by his side to squeeze his hand. Torbjörn was hooked to several machines that beeped softly now and then, still sporting heavy bandages on his face and torso. The blow to the head had ruptured his right eyeball and caused a severe concussion; it was only due to the fast response of their medical team that he was alive.

"I know that look—don't blame yourself," the engineer snorted. "I went under that tower. I could have thought the building was structurally compromised, and I didn't. I knew what I signed for when I joined Overwatch so no, don't feel guilty. I'll throw you out of this room."

Ana looked down and smiled warily. Even if his words would not magically make her feelings of guilt disappear, it was the first time she felt good about being threatened.

"I'm sure you have already thought about getting yourself a new arm..."

"Yes, but I want to build it myself," he said, drumming his fingers on the bed cover. "One that's useful and not a pile of Omnic-based crap."

Of course.

"Doctors are not happy about my ideas," he made a face. "Not that I care. I'm sure I can pick Angela's little brain while I work on the interfaces, and—"

"Angela? Who's she?" Ana sat down on the visitor's chair while eyeing Fareeha playing with a datapad.

"Oh, you haven't met her yet?" Torbjörn raised his eyebrows. "She's a very promising young lady. You will like her, I think. Let me see if she's around…" He grabbed his datapad and fumbled with it. It was clear it frustrated him to no end to be inefficient typing and managing himself one-handedly, but Ana knew better than to offer him help. "But you didn't say how's things. I've heard… well. Rumours of change," he raised a chocolate eye to look at her, a piercing, knowing glint on it, and Ana put her best poker face.

The engineer was not one for subtleties. The fact that he was not being straightforward told her that either the rumours were extremely vague, or that he did not dare to talk in front of her daughter.

"What sort of rumours?"

"Work rumours, of course," Fareeha rolled on her back on the ground. "That's the only thing there ever is. That's all you guys do, anyway..."

"You're so right pumpkin," he snorted. "And I'm fu—_ ndamentally _tired of it. I wish there were other kinds… but work rumours would have to do," he raised her eyebrows at Ana, and she rolled her eyes.

"Well, I have some clearance Zero intel about… yeah, changes."

That was as vague as it could get. Yet, there was a twinkle in Torbjörn's eye; surprise. Delight.

Relief beyond measure.

His only eye clouded with tears— but he was grinning like Ana had never seen him do, and she had the strange impression that, had he not been bed-ridden, he would have jumped on the bed and danced with her.

It was touching.

"Torb? Are you ok?" Fareeha looked at him as he rubbed his face. "You're_ smiling _."

"Yeah. Yeah— you know that? When I get out of this hole, I'm throwing a party!"

"A party?!" Her small eyebrows shot up to her hairline and she turned towards Ana. Now she was worried.

"It's ok, _habibti _. He's just happy."

"First you were grinning at the datapad, then he gets all smiley," the kid made a gesture as if the mere thought was preposterous and they had just gone crazy, and the engineer laughed among teeth.

"Oh, so you've not lost a moment, eh? Have you decided on a house already?"

Oh, no, no, no. Ana looked at Fareeha out of the corner of her eye and she knew she was doomed when saw her brown eyes growing big. This is exactly what she was trying to avoid.

"Houses? Like those on the pictures?" She asked, leaning on the bed. "Will we have one? With a sofa— _for me _?"

That made Torbjörn laugh again and gave Ana precious seconds to think about her answer.

"Yeah, we can get a sofa," she said slowly. The way the kid's eyes lit up gave her the strength to continue. "And a kitchen. A fridge, a big screen... Plus, it would have a big room for yourself and another for me."

"Really? Yeah!" Fareeha jumped up and down. "Oh, but we would need to get things in Reinhardt's size! Ahaha, I can't wait to play the floor is lava there!"

There was a moment of silence between the two adults. Then, a raised eyebrow and a poignant look. Ana played dumb with her best poker face, and Torbjörn cleared his throat.

"Oh, for you too, Torb! Not forgetting you!" Fareeha patted the bed covers. "And we need one of these seaters Gabriel likes. And a beanie bag. And you think we could have a dog, mom?"

The engineer's face softened, understanding now.

"Ah, pumpkin. The house would be for you and your mom," he said, squeezing one of her hands with his. "I have mine, back in Sweden. And your super-soldier friends— they are better at the base, you know."

"But— but I want to live with them," Fareeha looked horrified. "All of you. And my friends."

"I know, _habibti _," Ana took a deep breath and knelt by her side. "I like living with them, too. But you and the other kids here have grown up. You need a proper education."

"But Gabe can bring us more teachers! He did once, already— And I've been studying and doing my homework. "

"I know. This is not a punishment or anything like that," Ana caressed her soft dark hair. "Remember I said things are changing? Well… this is one of those things."

Fareeha burst into tears, and it broke Ana's heart. These were real tears, unlike when she just wanted to have her way about something. Ana would not mind staying at the base if there was a school nearby. That would be fantastic, really, but there were only snow and mountains here. The next town was many miles away— miles she would have to travel to get back to the base. Probably daily. But better Ana travelling than Fareeha, any day.

There was also the option of sending her to a boarding school, but Ana wanted to avoid that. Leaving the base was going to be hard enough— she wanted to be there for her daughter, at least.

"Ah, we will still see each other," Torbjörn said. "You'll see. Also, I need to bring my family here, so you meet my kids! After the baby is born we should be peachy to travel."

Of course, considering travelling bans had been lifted and the danger was gone. But Ana did not give that more than a fleeting thought. Instead, she kissed Fareeha in the head.

"It's ok, _habibti _, you'll like it. A million good things are waiting for you outside this base. We'll go to the sea. And to Egypt, if you want."

"To meet my dad?"

"To— we'll see about that," Ana pursed her mouth. Sam was something else she did not want to think about just now. "But maybe. If you truly want."

"I just want to stay here…"

"I know, I know. But I promise I'll bring you to the base frequently so you can see everyone, ok?"

Fareeha did not look convinced, but a knock on the door and a shocked gasp made Ana turn around; a blond teenager was looking at her from the door, a hand covering her mouth. She was turning a furious shade of pink in seconds.

"Sorry, ah—Wasn't expecting to meet you, Captain," she said in a thick German accent, looking at her trainers. "Not that I didn't want to, of course, but—"

A fan. But she was wearing a lab coat over her way-too-big clothes and had a datapad on her hands. And, as far as Ana knew, they were not hosting a school visit nor a fundraising event.

"Ah, there you are," Torbjörn half-smiled. "Come in, Ana doesn't bite much. Ana, this is Angela. A friend of ours and a doctor in training."

"That's quite—" Ana trailed off, torn between _interesting _, _impressive _, and _impossible _. "You are only a few years older than my daughter. Fareeha, say hi, _habibti _."

"Wait, she is your daughter? Nobody told me!" The girl walked to them, and Ana felt her stomach turning into a black hole when Reinhardt towered after her.

"Hey," he waved. He looked tired, but at least he could move more than an inch without wincing. He was limping, though, so probably the painkillers were still useless.

At least, they did not seem to be killing him.

"You too?" Torbjörn engaged him before he could say anything else, and so Ana just exchanged a brief look with the German before turning her attention back to her daughter and the girl.

"How do you find the time?" She asked Ana. "I mean, _wow _. Aww, but, what's wrong, Fareeha?"

Despite clearly being acquainted, Fareeha hid on Ana's chest, clearly not in the mood. She was too old for Ana to carry her nowadays, which would have been convenient now that she was still sobbing softly. Also, It would have been more than convenient for Ana to have a place to hide from Reinhardt.

"She's upset because I'm planning to live outside the base so she can attend a proper school."

"To live outside the base?" Reinhardt echoed, and Torbjörn started bickering with him again.

"Oh, but school is great," the girl, Angela, continued. "And you'll learn a lot, meet a lot of people. And visiting gets super special because everyone wants to see you and there's always good food waiting…"

She had Fareeha at _food _, and Ana almost laughed. While Gabriel ensured none of them went hungry, treats were few and far in between— unless Reinhardt was around.

Goddamn. Did her life revolve around him, nowadays?

_No, don't answer that _.

"Now I know why Ingrid always makes a pie when you and this idiot are around," Torbjörn snorted, but he was half-smiling. "She doesn't do that for me, you know."

"Sure she'll cook it for little Agnes, too…"

"Ah, shut up before I throw you out again!" The engineer growled. "Do you know how many names he's given my little girl in four days? Forty-three. And counting!"

Angela chuckled, and Ana could not help but look at the Crusader; he was propped on pillows on the one-seater near the bed, legs propped on the ottoman, and it all clicked together now. He had most likely been using it to rest by Torbjörn's bed these days. Right. Now that she thought about it, she seemed to remember it from the picture Reinhardt sent her two days ago.

He grinned upon noticing her scrutiny and squeezed the elbow of his sling-bound arm.

"Ah, Ana. I must thank you for taking care of me the other day," he said, a bit embarrassed if that was possible. "I'd have told you sooner, but—"

"Yeah, been very busy, sorry..." Busy avoiding him, mostly, but to be honest, it was not that terrible facing him if she ignored her stomach doing flips. "You seem to be doing better."

"_ Ja _. Fareeha has been taking care of us, right, _Mäuschen _?"

"You're still a disaster, though," Fareeha pouted, arms crossed. "You won't take your meds. Won't stay in bed."

Reinhardt laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"She's right," Angela put her hands on her hips. "By the way, have you told Dr. Shollner about your knee?"

"Told you there's no need."

"It shouldn't lock like that. The prosthesis may require some adjustme—"

"I'll have no more surgeries in my leg," he plastered a huge grin on his face. A scary one. "And changing topics for good— Ana, if you're truly considering new ah, _accommodation _, it would probably help if you had a German-speaker with you. Legal matters are a pain in this country, right, Angela?"

She huffed at him, then rolled her eyes; a feeling of exasperation Ana knew well.

"Don't get me started," she said in the end while checked the machines that were hooked to Torbjörn. "It took me two years of fighting to get admitted to the university, and won't have been able to do it without Torbjörn as my legal guardian."

"Is it that bad—wait. What?" Ana turned to the engineer, a hand on hip. "You never said a word of this."

"Well, what difference would it have made?" He shrugged, lopsided. "Besides, not sure why are you surprised. When you have many kids, adding more to the roster is just a formality."

"Even if they're big kids like me," Reinhardt arched an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I can't wait to tell little Frieda how her big bro saved—"

"Ahh, that is enough!" Torbjörn grabbed one of his pillows and threw it without any strength towards the Crusader, who was laughing and wincing at the same time. "Would you shut up for good if I promise you can name her?"

"Awww—Wait. That means I'd be her godfather?"

Torbjörn's face went from incredulity to exasperation through bloody murder in seconds. Then it just settled in wariness as he lied down on the pillows.

"Would you try for your life to be a good influence on her?"

"Of course, my friend! The best," Reinhardt grinned, and Ana could swear she and the engineer raised an eyebrow at the same time. "I won't disappoint you."

"You better not make me regret this."

Angela tried to hide a chuckle.

"Well, if you two are finished, I'll take Torbjörn now for his check-up," she said and tapped some buttons that made the engineer's bed hover. "Don't go too far away though," she looked at Reinhardt. "It'll be your turn next."

"Ah, if you don't mind, I may ask you for advice about, you know," Ana changed the weight one leg to another. If they were right and paperwork was going to be hell, she would rather know it before starting any process. "Perhaps we can have dinner together one of these days? Sure Fareeha would like to have someone closer to her age around, too."

"Ahh, Captain, you—" she turned into a strawberry in a second. "I can't possibly—ahh shi—_ sugar _. Sure, I would love to."

They all laughed, even if Reinhardt was also rubbing his face with a hand, tired, and—no. Not tired. He was disappointed and trying to hide it.

Oh.

_Ana, you idiot _. Of course, he was offering himself to help. Now he was looking at her just like when she almost threw the chocolate to his face. Shit. She had not even apologized for that, yet.

"You know, I may happen to know where the Medical Director stashes his doughnuts," Angela tapped the bed frame. "Perhaps if I had some help I could raid it…"

Fareeha looked at Ana with a small frown, still sad about the whole house business, but the temptation of having a doughnut for herself was too much for her little heart.

Bless her.

"I'm very good at helping. Right, mom?"

"Sure you are," she winked. It would be great for Fareeha to spend time with someone close to her age doing good to the world. Real good, and not soldier crap like the rest of them did. They would sure talk again about the house but, for now, a doughnut seemed to be the best medicine she could hope for. "Let's go find that stash—"

"Ah, please stay if for a moment, Ana." Despite its natural cheerfulness, Reinhardt's voice made her freeze. "Sure Fareeha can help Angela find the sweets just fine?"

Of course, he wanted to talk. And, in good faith, she could not deny him that— although she still had no idea what she was going to say. Not at all.

"That OK with you, _habibti _? Go get some yummies with Angela and Torbjörn?"

Her daughter looked at both the newcomer and the engineer and nodded. Ana was sure Fareeha would go with Torbjörn to hell if he asked her, too. With anyone of the Strike Team, she snorted.

She would have to ensure Fareeha kept that relationship with them when they stopped living at the base.

"I'll bring them both back in a while, Captain," Angela nodded and patted the bed covers. "Jump on! I'll carry you both."

Ana stayed close to the door, waving as the bed hovered down the corridor, and soon came the moment where she had to turn around and face Reinhardt.

Shit. To say she was nervous was an understatement.

"Thanks for staying," he half smiled but, in his usual fashion of wearing his heart on his sleeve, he looked wary. Not to say he probably was still taking a handful of drugs, which was probably not going to help their conversation. "I was—I don't know how to ask this without sounding entitled, but—"

She made a gesture with her hands, asking for a moment, and pulled the chair where she had been sitting before closer to his sofa. Now that Torbjörn's bed had left a huge empty space behind, she could not just sit at the other corner of the room—but, to create a bit of a barrier between them, she turned the chair around and sat facing the backrest, her arms leaning on it.

"Before we talk about anything else, let me apologize for the chocolate. I was inconsiderate and rude, and you didn't deserve that," she said, not daring to look at him in the face. "I'm not— I'm having a difficult time with myself and you were there in the wrong place carrying the wrong thing, and—"

"The wrong thing?" Reinhardt raised his eyebrows. "How can chocolate and biscuits be the wrong thing when I know for a fact they cheer you up?"

"They are too expensive. That's—"

"Expensive? Pah. What use do I have for money if not to buy treats?"

"Reinhardt…"

"It's true!" He shrugged, lopsided, and started counting with his fingers. "I'm fed, dressed. My armour gets taken care of. My medical bills are paid for. I know nothing but the military life and, since that won't change any time soon, I don't need to save for a house or tuition like you and Torbjörn do."

That was so not the point that Ana wanted to hide her face on her forearms.

"That doesn't make them less expensive."

"So what? You both give me so much—" he continued, his blue eye now glued to his hands. "it's only right I can give you something in return. And make no mistake, the chocolate doesn't even start covering it. Nor does the books and clothes I send to the Lindholms."

The big, selfless _idiot _. How could he think he had to repay her for—for what, exactly? Being friends? What did she ever give him, other than headaches?

"Besides," he continued, "you don't freak out when Jack buys you doughnuts every week, nor when Gabriel gets a present for Fareeha, so I fail to see how is this any different."

"Because they—" Ana stopped for a moment so she could put her thoughts in order. "Jack brings me sweets as payment for doing his paperwork, and Gabriel only wants to make at least one kid happy, since he cannot be there for his own."

"So I cannot bring sweets to make you both happy, nor as payment for the good times you give me? Sounds like I need to put down a complaint about discrimination," he joked, rubbing his sling-bound arm, but soon he looked away. Sad. Hurt. And rightfully so.

She was fretting because it was him, and she had it ingrained in her brain since she was very, very young that it was not a good idea to accept gifts from suitors she was not interested in. But she was, right? Kind of? And she was destroying what little relationship they had because she was terrified of even trying to go that way.

Her stomach knotted uncomfortably, and Ana let her glance roam through the room in an attempt to reign over her emotions. Goddamnit. She may have missed Sam after their breakup, but never the turmoil in her head.

The anxiety had already made her lose two pounds in six days. Even Fareeha had noticed she was different, and Gabriel only allowed her to hunt Hermes with him because they had nobody else physically fit for combat left in the Strike Team.

"Don't stay against your will," Reinhardt said after a moment of tense silence. "Sure you have places to be."

Shit.

Ana hated, _hated _making him miserable. Yet, it was all she managed to do. That was exactly why she should stay away from him. For his own good.

_You've made him the happiest man on Earth. Did you even realize that? _

Gabriel's words from days ago echoed in her mind, and she had to bit her lower lip so it would stop trembling. Shit. Shit,_ shit, shitshitshit. _She was such an idiot. An idiot for encouraging him. For not noticing what was happening. For allowing it. For being on the brink of ruining it.

She wanted him to smile. To be happy. To be the idiot he usually was, the one that brightened her days. She had that power, too, in spite of how insistent her mind could be of the opposite.

She only had to jump.

And so, Ana stared at the endless pit of fears at her feet for the longest second ever, then closed her eyes.

"It's not you, I promise. It's me being—"

"Oh wow, I didn't know you could break up with somebody you're not even dating. I'm taking notes."

She blindly swatted in his direction and hit his knee.

There had been another shift when they started talking more. Where he had been more laid back in his comments and just silent around her previously, nowadays he was much more of a little shit, just like he was with the guys.

She liked that—she liked that he would come to her for advice, for jokes, for stupid comebacks and even for competitions. She had been missing out on so much fun, even if he was exasperating sometimes.

In a fond way.

"It's not that. I don't want to push you away, even if I'm totally managing to do so."

"You could have fooled me," Reinhardt crossed his arms as much as the sling let him. "You didn't come to visit. Didn't answer my texts. I waited and _waited _, and you came to visit Torbjörn instead! And now…" He trailed off, then rubbed the back of his head vigorously, dishevelling his hair.

It was obvious he had more to say, but he either did not trust himself to say them out loud or he did not trust her not to flee.

"I know. And I'm sorry. It's— I've realized that—that I'd hate to lose you. Very much. And I'm terrified about the whole thing, so—so I keep on being horrible to you because of it."

Her words echoed on the half-empty room and were met with an impenetrable silence. It dragged on heavily; she looked around, trying to distract herself, but her gaze always ended back on him; his dishevelled golden hair, the comfortable gym clothes he was wearing. The fluffy slippers.

He must have known about her feelings already because, if anything, he only looked more upset.

"So… Is this why you're buying a house? As a way to put miles between us?" Reinhardt swung his legs over the side of the makeshift bed and sat at the edge, facing her. Yet, he was hunched forward as much as his bandages allowed, head low and eyes wrinkling in pain now and then. "Because there are easier ways to—"

"What? No," Ana interrupted him and looked behind herself. The door was still closed and, hopefully, nobody would be listening behind it. "No, we captured Hermes. It's done. We won. So I—"

Her words made Reinhardt both straighten like a spring and suck a sharp breath through his teeth. Then, he clawed the sling over his clavicle, hissing.

"Shit. Do you need more meds?"

"No, it's—" He took a couple of ragged breaths, and then used his right arm to push himself up, slowly this time. "It's fine. I ditched all but the nanites."

"That's—are you serious? You cannot possibly have healed already."

"It's mostly the shoulder giving me grief, now. But the sooner I get used to the pain, the sooner I'll be back at the gym."

Well, damn. That explained how lucid—and tired—he was, but it still was a terribly stupid idea. Yet, after the other day's disaster, it was understandable if he wanted to keep clear from painkillers.

"Lie back on the pillows," she sighed, and the way Reinhardt frowned at being commanded made him look like an enormous, grumpy lion. Even sitting down he towered over her, but he was a rather cracked tower with the stitches, the bruises, and the sling. "I'll get closer. Promise."

Only when she got up, ready to pull the chair, did he lay back on the pile of cushions.

She sat so close to the bed they could hold hands if they wanted to, and only then she realized the ease with which they had fallen back into their usual roles. As if they were never having an embarrassing and extremely serious conversation.

"So we won," he muttered once he had made himself as comfortable as he could without leaning on the left side of his back. He was frowning, lost in thought. The news did not seem to make him as happy as they had made Torbjörn, but it was probably the shock. She understood that well.

"Yeah, and that's what the conversation about the house was about. Torbjörn anticipated I would start looking for a place straight away," Ana braided and rebraided her hair, but her gut had stopped making flips, finally. "I'll still need some time. Sort my finances, see if anyone would sell me a property that's not a ruin…"

"Ah, I'm sure Angela could help you with that," he said, but there was no anger or animosity towards her in his blue eye, just an overall feeling of wariness.

"Actually," Ana took a shaky breath and looked at his rough, large hands. "I didn't realize you were offering to help me until I had already screwed up. I'm sorry about that, too."

Reinhardt squeezed his sling-bound elbow. Then, he pursed his mouth, making the beard on his chin to spike upward.

"I'm glad you're not set up to make me miserable on purpose," he said, a hint of humour in his voice. It was, however, soon lost. "But I'll be blunt. Either I can interact with you, or I won't."

It was a fair ask. More than fair.

"I wish I could promise you I won't freak out, but I know that I will. However," Ana rubbed her face with her hands, feeling as if she could melt with the chair, the ground, and the whole building, "the war is over, and that alone is a huge slab off my shoulders."

"Your team, _ja _?"

"My team, yes. And Fareeha's idiot of a father," she snorted softly, grateful that he remembered her story and, therefore, she did not have to elaborate. "Also, the fact that you would not die on me again anytime soon helps a lot."

"Pff. You should know by now I'm hard to kill…"

Ana swatted him. Multiple times, in fact.

"I'll tell you that the next time you're puking your guts all over the place."

"That was hardly my fault," Reinhardt fidgeted on the seater as if the mere memory caused him discomfort. "As usual."

"As usual," she snorted softly and looked at her hands. She was tiny compared to him; the number of _activities _that could go wrong due to his size was absolutely terrifying, but he could be a nice armchair. And he would also provide adequate heating during the cold months—or, in Ana's case, every month.

Not to say he was an adorable little shit.

Their gazes crossed; Reinhardt looked amused at her scrutiny but said nothing, just raised an eyebrow. Waiting, always waiting for her.

She had already walked 90% of the road, she could well cross the finish line.

"Look," Ana let go a long sigh. "I'm tired. I've slept like twelve hours in four days and I've cried more this week than in the past five years."

"You've ended a war, too."

"Yeah, well. But that's only because shooting is the only thing I'm good at," she waved a hand, then unbraided her hair with nimble fingers. "I'm shit at this. I'm unstable and have a bad temper. I don't know what I can, or can't do, and I'll probably—"

Reinhardt reached out and covered her hands with his. She swallowed. He was so warm, so full of life. So strong. Dependable. Such an _idiot _.

"Take it easy, _ja _? Nothing needs to change. There's no rush, now less than ever."

_Her idiot _.

"I'm asexual," she blurted, breaking down the last barrier. "That's something that sure won't be changing. But you need to know before even thinking about—this."

To his credit, he only looked mildly surprised.

"That explains why I could only woo you with chocolate." He chuckled, squeezing her hands softly. "You are full of surprises, Captain."

Ana couldn't help but smile, even if it was through tears. She did not deserve him. Not in a million years.


End file.
